


moonlight is but reflected sun

by pumpkinpickles



Category: Cinderella Phenomenon (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Rewrite, DONT READ THIS BEFORE PLAYING FRITZ'S ROUTE ?? THERES A TON OF SPOILERS, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Rewrite, Self-Doubt, Spoilers, no slowburn here we go at mach speed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-18 04:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15477978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpickles/pseuds/pumpkinpickles
Summary: In which Lucette runs away from the palace, gets lost in an enchanted forest with Varg, and forces feelings out of both him and Fritz so all three can finally get the happy ending they deserve that no one has to die for.Happiness is best served whole and by the one you love, after all.(basically: a rewrite of Fritz's route, because its what he deserves)





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I uuhhh finished Cinderella Phenomenon in like two days, Fritz is my ultimate best boy. I enjoyed his canon route, but it was too plot-driven and Varg-focused for my liking. Plus it left me craving for a more satisfying and wholesome ending, so I decided to write one myself. It's quite clear where the rewrite begins, but in case you want to know beforehand: it starts slightly before you get Fritz's seventh CG with Varg.
> 
> The first half of the route rewrite focuses on Varg, while the second focuses on Fritz. I've mostly finished writing the whole fic, but i'll be posting them in chunks for a better reading reading experience :")) 
> 
> Quick note about the prologue (and epilogue): i'm aware that Lucette doesn't actually represent Little Red Riding Hood in the actual canon, but pls let this go for the sake of a slight fairy tale book element :"))
> 
> Also, some lines are directly lifted from the game to better connect the game canon with my personalised canon. I take no credit for them! 
> 
> EDIT: I realised that there are canon confirmed facts found on Dicesuki's tumblr that directly contradicts a lot of headcanons/happenings in this fic, but since I wrote this entire fic before going through their tumblr, please take everything i've written with a pinch of salt lol (as u always should when reading fics)
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing this !
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **(IMPORTANT) MAJOR EDIT NOTE: This fic was written on the mistaken premise that the seventh CG happened before the forced kiss, hence why both it and its ramifications are never addressed. That is also why Varg is also shown to be a much tamer version of himself. I sincerely apologise as it's a truly shitty thing for Lucette to have experienced and should have been talked about/reflected in character interactions.**
> 
> **Unfortunately, as it is unlikely that I will rewrite the fic entirely in order to incorporate this missed detail (as I believe I will have to, considering how the ripple effect of a forced assault can and will go far), I can only apologise and hope all readers will read the story on the assumption that the forced kiss has not yet happened as of the beginning of this fic (and never will).**
> 
> **Thank you for reading this edit, my apologies once more for overlooking the detail, and I hope you will still enjoy the fic !**

* * *

 

 

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Little Red Riding Hood.

 

She lived with her mother, sheltered from the world in their little hut.

 

Little Red Riding Hood loved her mother very, very much.

 

So much so that she would do whatever her mother said.

 

“Little Red, won’t you please not sew?”

 

“Little Red, won’t you please not cry?”

 

“Little Red, won’t you please not leave the cottage?”

 

So much so that she never doubted anything her mother did.

 

“Little Red, don’t open the door to anyone but me.”

 

“Little Red, don’t ever disobey me.”

 

“Little Red, don’t you love anyone else but me.”

 

One day, Little Red Riding Hood noticed a shadow by the window.

 

Curious, she peeked out the glass.

 

A hunter stood outside, looking most bewildered.

 

“Hello.” He said, when he spotted Little Red Riding Hood. “How do you do?”

 

“Quite alright.” Little Red Riding Hood replied. “How about you?”

 

“I am lost.” The Hunter said. “I don’t know where I came from and where I was going.”

 

Little Red Riding Hood was not the most emotive girl, but she felt sad for the hunter.

 

 _‘How terrible it must be’,_ she thought, ‘ _to lose one’s way.’_

 

“If only you could remember your destination, for I am sure I could help.” Little Red Riding Hood said.

 

The Hunter smiled sadly.

 

“I am afraid things never go as I plan. Would you mind terribly if I chatted with you for a bit? I am quite tired from trying to find my way.”

 

Little Red Riding Hood felt her heart leap, for it was the first time anyone but her mother had wished to converse with her, you see.

 

The animals were far too afraid, while the butterfly and bat who had invited her to their abode simply lived too far.

 

“Of course!” Little Red Riding Hood said.

 

Every day since then, the Hunter would visit.

 

From early noon to late, the Hunter would be there with another story to share.

 

It wasn’t soon till Little Red Riding Hood grew fond of the Hunter, and grew to eagerly anticipate his visits with every new day.

 

But one day, the Hunter did not appear.

 

Little Red Riding Hood waited all day and dusk, but he still did not appear.

 

However when night fell, a wolf appeared instead.

 

“My, my.” The Wolf said. “You must be Little Red Riding Hood.”

 

Little Red Riding Hood frowned.

 

She recalled meeting no wolves, nor telling them her name.

 

“Who are you?” She asked.

 

“The Wolf, of course.” The Wolf said. “You must know me, Little Red Riding Hood, for you know the Hunter.”

 

Little Red Riding Hood’s frown grew bigger.

 

“I am sorry, but I do not.” Little Red Riding Hood said. “But do you know where the Hunter is?”

 

“Why, of course.” The Wolf said. “Do you want to meet him?”

 

“Yes.” Little Red Riding Hood replied immediately. “Of course I do. Will you bring me to him, Wolf?”

 

The Wolf smiled, baring its sharp fangs.

 

“Only if you are not afraid of me.” The Wolf said.

 

Little Red Riding Hood was afraid, but her concern for the Hunter far outweighed her fear.

 

“I am. But I shall go with you.” Little Red Riding Hood said.

 

“Very well, Little Red Riding Hood.” The Wolf said. “But you must first leave the hut.”

 

Little Red Riding Hood hesitated.

 

She thought of her mother, always in her cold room with her pet snake.

 

She thought of the Hunter, and his sunny smile, quick jokes and warm hands.

 

“Okay.” Little Red Riding Hood said.

 

To Little Red Riding Hood’s surprise, the window was unlatched.

 

 _‘How odd’,_ Little Red Riding Hood thought. ‘ _I had always thought it wouldn’t open.’_

 

Little Red Riding Hood pushed the window open, and carefully climbed out.

 

When Little Red Riding Hood stood on the other side of the window, the Wolf’s smile stretched.

 

“Good.” The Wolf said. “Now get on my back. We must hurry, or it may become too late for your friend.”

 

Hearing that, Little Red Riding Hood climbed atop the Wolf in a hurry.

 

When Little Red Riding Hood was safely atop the Wolf, he took off running into the woods.

 

Thankfully, the full moon was present that night, lighting their path.

 

As the Wolf runs, Little Red Riding Hood noticed patches of velvet fur that glimmered silver under the light.

 

Yet every time Little Red Riding Hood reached out toward the patches, they would dissolve back into black, only to appear silver at another spot.

 

“Wolf?” Little Red Riding Hood asked. “Will I be able to save the Hunter?”

 

The Wolf howled with laughter.

 

It was not gentle like the Hunter’s, but did not unnerve her, either.

 

“I do not know, Little Red Riding Hood.” The Wolf said. “Do you think you can?”

 

“Do you want to try?”


	2. the departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which one person runs away, and the other chases after. 
> 
> (but who's doing the running, and who's doing the chasing, really?)

Lucette loves her mother.

That is the one fact that keeps her going, the one truth that holds her little world together.

No matter the whispers, the gossips, the cold stares, it is the only thing she refuses to turn her back on.

It is the only part of herself she keeps cradled in her hands, while the rest is left to seep through the gaps between her fingers.

Then she is cursed, and her fingers tuck ever closer to that love.

Until she meets people.

Many, many different people. People who are quick to judge, people who aren’t. People who offer kind words despite her curt ones, people who act without underlying malice.

People who are nothing but warm to her, when she cannot help being icy cold.

People who gave her everything even when she held nothing to her name.

People she almost -

Trusted.

People who come rushing back through her mind when her mother pins her with disappointed eyes at her inability to kill in cold blood.

Where there once was a lively bluebird twittering within the dome of magic, it now lies prone on the floor, silent and very, very much dead.

By the hands of her own mother.

Lucette feels her breaths come short.

“Mother, it -.” Words trap in Lucette’s throat. Even now, even for justified reason, she cannot fathom speaking against her mother. “It was innocent.” She finishes lamely, what was supposed to be an accusatory statement now a bewildered whisper.

“And?” Hildyr arches a brow. “Are you questioning me, dear?”

Lucette barely holds back the reflexive flinch at the hard tone. “No, mother.”

If not for Hildyr’s strict training, Lucette is certain her eyes would be directed at the floor at all times whenever her mother is in the room. A bead of cold sweat trails down the back of her stiff neck.

It didn’t use to be like this, Lucette knows. She used to be proud, to able to hold her head up high with her mother. To be able to even stand next to Hildyr, to be able to have been her daughter.

Standing in the middle of the throne room now, her mother’s disapproval ringing strong in every word she speaks, every wave of her hand, Lucette doesn’t understand how she ever missed the poisonous thorns hidden within her mother’s teachings. The dismissive way her mother treated her concerns. The annoyance in her mother’s eyes, anytime she tried defying her, even by the slightest margins.

Perhaps she never did miss it.

Perhaps that’s why, when Hildyr opens her arms for a hug, Lucette feels nothing.

Perhaps that’s why, Lucette thinks, as she mechanically walks forward to settle against her mother’s bosom, that’s why she cannot look another in the eye without feeling tongue tied and anxious.

Hildyr hugs her, but Lucette cannot tear her eyes away from the bluebird.

Jarringly, while in her mother’s arms, Lucette cannot help envisioning herself in it’s position.

There is only a fancy jewel and blood ties that keeps her from being cast aside.

There is only title that keeps her from being left for crow’s pickings.

Not love. Never love.

The realisation makes Lucette dizzy. She feels bile rise in the back of the throat, and it takes tremendous effort for her to not strike at the one figure she has trusted for years.

She wasn’t loved. Not even by the only person she had truly cared for.

Lucette barely registers Hildyr letting her go. Wonders if Hildyr had ever held her in the first place.

Wonders if the love that she held so dear had even existed.

“Varg.”

At Hildyr’s call, the throne door swings open just enough for a man cloaked in black to enter. Varg smoothly drops onto a knee before both of women.

Despite all the uncertainty and danger surrounding him, the familiar masked face brings slight relief. Even if Varg’s presence also serves as a painful reminder of the man she might have already lost.

 _‘At least’,_ Lucette thinks, desperate, _‘At least he is a constant. At least he is bared to me.’_

_‘At least he does not lie.’_

“Bring my daughter back to her room.”

Varg bows slightly. “As you command, your majesty.”

As she exits, Lucette curtsies out of pure habit alone. “Goodnight, mother.”

Opening the door of the throne room, Varg waits for Lucette to walk pass before closing it once more.

Varg easily overtakes her, and it strikes Lucette funny how her own mother doesn’t even trust her to return alone. Where her younger self would insert excuses of worry and concern, Lucette reserves numb doubt.

It’s been two weeks since the training began. Two weeks since guilt has truly started to gnaw at the corners of her heart, since her actions have truly caught up to her.

With every lie she uncovers within her supposed home, Lucette cannot stop herself from growing more and more detached. From the palace, from her mother, from her very self.

She thinks back to Marchen, to Parfait’s easy smiles, Delora’s sarcastic grins. Waltz’s patient words, Rumpel’s charming winks, Karma’s bright laugh. She thinks back to warm heaths and warmer meals.

She thinks of how she destroyed everything over a tiny seed of doubt and hollows herself out once more. Sinners must reap what they sow, after all.

Lucette finds her tired eyes drawn to Varg’s cloak, wide and sweeping.

There had been a single person, once. Who had the capability to ground her, even at the worst of times. Just by being a constant.

Just by being _there._

Yet he hasn’t been seen in weeks now, not since their last borderline-confessional. It’s maniacal, the way she opens the door every dawn just to have her hopes dashed by the black attired Varg.

“Adiuve.” The word slips past her lips even before she can help it.

Varg doesn’t even bother stopping in his tracks.

“You know that won’t work anymore, princess.”

Lucette wants to say she hates how she can hear the laughter in his voice. But she cannot deny the palpable relief that stems from Varg’s smooth baritone, firing her chilled veins. So similar to a gentler tone, yet just as calming.

Still, it is not enough. Lucette doesn’t think anything in this palace will ever be enough for her anymore.

“I see.” The resigned manner the words escape astonish even her. Lucette does not remember ever sounding so defeated. But that was what she was. Tired. Of her unloving mother’s demands, of her uncaring advisor’s irritating smiles, of her confusing guard’s intimate looks, whether he be masked or not.

Just like the one he was casting right now, over his shoulder.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Lucette breaks eye contact, a silent refusal to continue the conversation.

Still, Lucette readies herself for an uncalled remark. She knows this is not her knight, so he has no obligation to hold his tongue, and will gladly not do so, as he’s been proven to so many times already.

But surprisingly, Varg remains silent.

He simply faces forward and continues the rest of their trek in silence. In no time, they reach her room. Varg opens the door, waiting for Lucette to enter.

Despite this phase of her routine already ingrained in her, Lucette suddenly finds herself unable to act. Or rather, unwilling to. She stands by the entrance of the doorway, staring emptily into her room.

“Hurry up princess, we don’t have all day.” Varg yawns.

Lucette cannot hear what he says. She hasn’t heard a single sound clearly apart from her truth since a moment ago. Now the silence captures her, filling her ears with white noise.

Before her is her room. Lucette exhales soundlessly, eyes glazed. She stares at the pastel blue walls, her pretty dolls, her immaculate desk. Where she has spent countless hours locked away, quiet, obedient.

Stifled.

Before her is her prison. And Lucette knows, somewhere deep in her heart, that if she were to step into the room today, she will never free herself from it again.

“Princess?”

Lucette spins, finding Varg staring at her. His brows are creased, an uncharacteristic downward tug to his lips.

The gears in her head are spinning faster than she can turn them. Suddenly, she finds something in her chest set ablaze. A uniquely odd something that makes her breath quick, eyes bright, and chest fill with hope she doesn’t understand.

The only thing that she knows right now is that this princess would be the one saving her knight.

“Varg.” Lucette says, and for the first time that evening she hears what she’s saying. “You have the Little Red Riding Hood curse.”

The man pulls back, snarls. “So?”

“So let’s play a game.” The words fly out her mouth faster than she can process them. Lucette doesn’t know if this is a good idea. She doesn’t know if anything she’s ever done has been smart, or more importantly, good. But right now, all she knows is that a prison is not where a princess is meant to be.

That a prison is a place the knight can never reach her, and if she were to condemn herself to it, she would be condemning him.

And the wolf that watches them both, too.

There is awning hurt in that thought, so she decides it must have merit.

No pain for another, Lucette’s come to realise, comes without a reason.

“I’ll run, and you can chase me. If you catch me, it’s your win. If you don’t, it’s mine. Simple as that.”

Varg’s expression immediately turns to one of disappointment. “I wish you wouldn’t belittle me like this, princess. Even for an escape plan, this is too obvious, no?”

“Will you play or not?” Lucette pushes.

Varg tilts his head backwards with a bark of laughter. “Of course not. I’m not so foolish.”

Her mother’s green eyes, hungry and awful flashes through her mind.

“Even if it means giving up your role as wolf?”

That prompts Varg to narrow his eyes at her. “What do you mean?”

“What I said.” Lucette shrugs. “Or maybe you’re so afraid of losing, Varg? Pity.”

Varg tilts his head to the other side. A smirk is scrawled his face. “I know you’re goading me.” He bends at the waist, pushing his face into Lucette’s. She forces herself to look him in the eyes and not tremble. It is easier than she thought, to lose herself in the murky gold of Varg’s shadowed iris.

“And I accept.” Varg surprisingly finishes. He straightens himself. “Just to prove to you a point. That there’s no merit in trying me. In fact, i’ll even give you a five second head start.” His poker face unravels into a devilish grin. ”You’ll need it, princess.”

Lucette bites the inside of her cheek. Refuses to allow herself to be swept to his pace. “On your count, then.”

“As her highness wishes.” Varg steps to one side, mockingly bowing as he does so. “Five.”

Lucette blinks, clearly not expecting the countdown to have already begun. Varg’s smile only grows wider. The predatory glint in his eye startles her into action.

Without a second thought, Lucette takes off running in a wayward direction, away from the corridors and into the sprawling back garden.

Just as she rounds the corner, she hears Varg once more. “Four.”

A blanket of darkness covers the dimly lit back garden. Abandoned plots of flowers and vegetables block her way, and thick bunches of weeds threaten to trip her. But even with all the new obstacles, this place is still one she knows like the back of her hand.

Just close enough to the palace for her mother to not worry, and just far enough from the palace to serve as Lucette’s only solace - it had served as her playground as a child.

So it’s only fitting for Lucette to have kept some secrets in this garden, secrets only she was privy to know.

 _‘There’,_ Lucette thinks, seeing a towering garden hedge.

Once, when she was younger and wiser, she had tried running away from the palace. Away from her mother’s awful words about the beautiful fairy tales, away from a father who would not return her affections.

It had been difficult, she remembers as she drops to her knees by the corner of the hedge. The garden shears had been heavy, the hedge thick. But she had managed, and escaped for but a day before the chilling worry of her mother’s discovery thwarted her permanent escape plans.

Now, older and much more foolish, Lucette once again seeks escape from a place and woman she thought she could call home.

It takes some effort, but she pulls out the messily cut hedge square. Certain sections of the hedge have grown back, but enough space remains for her to squeeze through.

As she crawls, Lucette feels parts of her skirt ripping, being left behind in the cold darkness of the palace, along with parts of herself.

She lets them.

Soon, she’s out, an empty backstreet stretching before her eyes.

Lucette is running before she even decides where she wants to go. A plan would be ideal, but  with Varg, she knows speed and distance is of essence.

Despite it all, the fresh air of the outside exhilarates her. Gone are the expectations, the stuffy glares and reprimands. Away are the deaths, the pain, the agony of innocent birds and soldiers and her constantly heavy heart.

Toward is - . Is - .

Lucette clenches her jaw. There’s only so many places she can go.

Except that wasn’t true. There’s only one place she can go, she realises, her heart twisting.

But before her feet can take her on the familiar path through the town centre towards the Marchen Tavern, she makes a hard turn off the streets and into the border forest.

Waltz had divulged to her once that the tavern’s back forest was loosely connected to the one surrounding a good half of Angielle. As long as she kept to the sparse outer layer of the forest, she was sure to find somewhere familiar.

Lucette’s eyes sting at the memory. Busy streets had still frightened her when she first entered Marchen, so he had shared the advice in case she ever wanted to try exposing herself to her kingdom, even if it were through the backstreets.

In that instant, she wants so badly to be back at Marchen. To be back with people who cared.

So she grits her teeth, fiercely rubs her eyes with a hand, and continues to run.

But it isn’t long until she finds herself in a part of the woods she’d never been in before. Lucette finds her strides teetering to a stop, her chest heaving with exertion. Her hand trembles with exhaustion as she presses it against a tree trunk to keep herself from falling over.

Taking a look around her, it dawns on Lucette with horrifying clarity that she must have taken the wrong path at some point, and had somehow made her way into the inner workings of the forest.

Lucette takes a shaky step backwards. If she didn’t leave now while she was still somewhat near the edge, she’s sure she’ll never be able to find her way out again.

Just as she’s orientating herself toward the backstreets of the town square, a strong arm wraps itself around her middle.

“Caught you, princess.” Even breaths brush against her ear, and Lucette feels her too fast heart sinking like lead.

She always knew that Fritz was quick, yet Varg was much faster than she had thought. But she had forgotten - no matter who had been fronting, they never once took their eyes off of her.

Luck had been the deciding factor, and it appeared that Lucette had drawn the burnt match.

Still, it didn’t mean Lucette couldn’t put up a fight. She struggles against Varg, twisting her torso in an attempt to get out of his grip.

“Let me go!”

Varg chooses to haul her feet off the ground instead. “I’d say it’s time to put our runaway princess back to bed.”

Lucette’s veins turn to ice. “No!”

“You don’t really have a say in this matter, princess.” Varg says, amused.

“No!” Lucette shouts, more shrilly this time.

A singing bluebird. Her mother’s disappointed glare. A still bluebird. Her mother’s angered sigh.

A sight lays itself before Lucette’s eyes: her own glassy eyes, twisted limbs, bloodied lips, all encased in a bright blue magic dome.

“No, _Varg,_ you don’t understand.” Lucette gasps, frantic. All grace and decorum leaves her frame.

Marchen was _right there,_ she was just _so close_ \- !

“No, Varg, _no_ . She’ll - _Mother_ \- Mother _will_ \- Mother will _kill_ **_me_ **.” All other words fail her. The memory of her mother’s vicious eyes pinning her down drives all air out of her.

She had long been disposable to her mother. Only now, with Marchen in her heart, does she realise. Lucette bites on her bottom lip to prevent herself from crying out.

Even if she has lost all grace as a princess, Lucette refuses Varg the satisfaction of seeing her broken down and in tears.

However, his reaction is entirely unpredicted.

Instead of quickening his pace, or maybe even laughing, Varg’s steps stutter. His posture turns rigid, yet his arm slacks. Through her blurry eyes, Lucette sees Varg’s eyes sharply fix on her in disbelief. “ _What?”_

Sensing the opportunity, Lucette swings her foot to kick his shin. Varg hisses, more out of shock than pain, and reflexively lets go.

The moment her feet connect with the ground, Lucette takes off. She doesn’t even recognise the direction she’s running in. Every step feels like knives are puncturing her lungs. But she forces herself on, knowing that every step leads somewhere away from death.

Deeper, deeper into the forest she seeks. Twisting and turning at every opportunity; ducking beneath branches, hopping over roots.

But this time, her escape is short lived. Barely even minutes later, Varg has his arm around her again.

“You...run...too fast.” Lucette huffs. Anger is an easy veil for her crushing disappointment.

“I think you just run too slow, princess.” Varg’s arm tightens painfully around her stomach. Lucette weakly struggles, turning her head to glare at him.

Lines of steely anger are seeped into Varg’s grimace. “Bold lie you told to buy some time.”

Lucette’s hands curl into fists. She wants to shout at him again, but she refuses to allow him to see her in such a disgraceful manner any more than he already has.

Lucette steadies her voice the best she can, and finds her next sentence delivered chillingly quiet. “It wasn’t a lie.”

Surprise tears through Varg’s face. However, it’s quickly dampened with an uncaring facade.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll be bringing you back. Sir Mythros will have my head if you get even a bug bite. Not to mention if you go missing altogether. Besides,” Varg pauses, eyeing Lucette. “I highly doubt Her Majesty would harm you.”

“What would you know.” Lucette says through gritted teeth. It had been hard enough, having to suddenly confront the fact that her mother would kill her without second thought. Varg’s denial only served to rub salt in her wound.

“She doesn’t have a reason to.” Varg says easily, eyes hardening. The conversation seems to spark something in him, but that’s the least of Lucette’s concerns right now.

Lucette digs her nails into Varg’s sleeves. She doubts he can feel it, but she takes empty glee in the way the fabric crumples. “You don’t know that. You don’t know anything.”

Nonplussed, Varg turns his head away. “That is true. And I do not care to know. Now, the palace.”

Dread fills Lucette. She hangs her head in an attempt to mask her falling expression.

But he never begins moving. Eventually, confusion gets the better of her, and Lucette looks up.

Varg stands stockstill, an odd expression drawn on his face. He looks to both sides, then forward. Lucette wants to ask what’s wrong, but the blank expression on his face convinces her to remain silent.

“Princess.” Varg finally says. Slight amusement is present in his voice as usual, but the mirth is tainted by underlying frustration. “You’ve gotten us in quite a situation.”

“What do you mean?” Lucette asks, a different sort of anxiety beginning to fill her.

“We’re lost.”

 

“What?” Lucette’s voice echoes in the empty forest.

Varg looks around him again. He runs his free hand through his hair. “We’re lost, princess.”

The shock of their situation seems to have momentarily knocked the snark out of Varg. He blinks, clearly in disbelief.

“This is a sticky situation we’ve gotten ourselves into.” He muses, touching his chin. “Your Majesty won’t be happy if we return.”

“If we return?” Lucette repeats, a sickly feeling welling in her stomach.

“ _When_ we return.” Varg quickly amends.

A few minutes is lost to the silent forest. The fact of their situation sinks into the duo with deepening horror at every passing second.

“Well.” Varg says, breaking the quiet. “We’ll never get anywhere standing here.” As he says that, he begins advancing forward into the woods.

Confusion overtakes Lucette’s shock. “Where are you going?” She asks. “ _Do_ you know where you’re going?”

Varg’s steady march never stops, even as he answers Lucette. “We’ll figure out where we are in the morning. Right now, look out for somewhere we can rest for the night. Unless you fancy sleeping in the trees.”

“...Let me down so I can walk for myself, then.” Her position in Varg’s arm isn’t uncomfortable, but being held like a ragdoll disagrees with Lucette.

Varg shifts Lucette in his arm, but shows no sign of putting her down. “So you can run off again and waste my time tracking you down?”

“I won’t run.” Lucette argues. “I simply do not appreciate being held like an object.”

“I don’t particularly care for what you appreciate, princess.” Varg retaliates. “And you can stop bracing yourself. I won’t drop you for the exact same reason.”

Sensing that Varg isn’t about to let her go any time soon, Lucette does as advised. Although she won’t admit it, it is a relief to finally be able to relax her tense posture.

Looking down, Lucette sees that she’s being held in a position and angle where Varg’s metal clasps and buttons avoid her body entirely. As such, despite Varg’s firm grip, it isn’t uncomfortable at all. The consideration makes Lucette’s heart clench.

But this wasn’t the time to be focusing on Varg’s actions. Lucette looks around her, taking her time to fully take in her current environment.

Before them, the path is relatively clear, with little to no obstructions in their path, apart from the odd gnarled tree root. Around, there’s nothing but trees as far as the eye can see. Even the trees in their surrounding area are densely packed, with the canopy barely filtering any moonlight.

In the dark, Lucette feels her hopes faltering. But before she can return to her previous slump, Lucete forces herself to snap out of it with a hard shake of her head. No. Marchen was waiting for her. Parfait, Delora, Waltz, Rumpel, Karma, Annice, Jurien, Garlan. Even Mr Broom.

She has to believe in them. She has to.

Despite her current predicament, the fact that Marchen would be spared mother’s wrath due to her absence placates her.

Speaking of absence. There was a disturbing lack of noise coming from both the woods and Varg.

Unnerved, Lucette peers around her for an explanation. The woods she has none, but Varg she realises is making his steps soft and deliberate, disturbing as little dirt as possible.

“Are you walking this way to prevent animals from following us?”

Varg hums at the question. “Smart princess. Animals are curious animals, and i’m not interested in becoming their midnight snack. Now shush. They might be attracted to sound, too.”

Even in such an absurd situation, Varg has already regained his composure. Lucette can’t help but admire the way he is so easily able to keep calm.

If it were Fritz, she had no doubt that he’d be the same. If only a bit more jittery and talkative. Surely if he were the one here instead, Fritz would have a smile and soft word at the ready.

Frtiz. Gentle, kind Fritz, who had held her and made promises of devotion that she had so badly wanted to believe in.

The last time she had seen him, curious sadness was written into his eyes, echoing in his steps as he left her room.

Pain pierces Lucette’s heart, pushing her to finally ask the question she’d swallowed back every morning Varg had escorted her to the dining hall, with that same sadness heavy in his footsteps.

Varg might be the reason that Fritz was hidden, but Lucette couldn’t help but feel that there was more than Varg was letting on. He just enjoyed playing the bad role a little too much, and taunted too harshly to really be taken seriously.

In fact, at times, Lucette felt that Varg might divulge to her more if she would simply...ask.

So, with a pinch of salt about her intuition, Lucette speaks up, albeit softer than her previous tone. After all, just because she cared for Fritz didn’t mean that she wouldn’t respect Varg’s decisions.

“Is Fritz alright?” Lucette asks.

At the question, Varg’s lips pull into a taut smile. “It really would do you best to keep quiet, princess.”

Agitation spikes in her, and she worries that she might be wrong about Varg after all. Still, she has nothing to lose.

The piercing pain intensifies, and Lucette curls a hand into the fabric that protects it.

Nothing much, anyway.

“I’ve already quietened my voice. I do not think some conversation will prove negative.” Lucette frowns.

Varg ignores her reply. Now the pain irks Lucette more than it does disturb. His intentions to ignore her are spelt out clearly, so she taps Varg’s thigh with her heel to capture his attention instead.

“If you don’t answer me, i’ll start singing.”

“Don’t."

Lucette’s lips curl into a smug grin. “On the count of three.”

“Princess -.”

“One.”

“Can this not wait until we find a place to stop?”

“I am certain you will disappear when we do. You always do when I want answers from you.” Somehow this fact makes Lucette’s chest hurt more. “Two.”

“Be reasonable, princess.” Varg’s tone darkens with irritation. Normally, Lucette would shut up, would learn to take the hints of his annoyance at face value and back down.

But their circumstances right now are anything but normal, and petty spite for all the times Varg has teased Lucette about Fritz’s whereabouts spurs her on.

That, and the fact that she was still dangling by his arm like a doll.

“Three.”

Varg does not speak, even at Lucette’s expectant brow raise. He simply stares back at her, almost daring her to act as promised.

So she will.

Lucette takes a deep breath, not missing the way Varg’s eyes comically widen. But before the first note can leave her lungs, Varg has a hand clamped over her mouth.

“Have you gone mad?” Varg hisses. Lucette simply looks at him, unwavering. If she didn’t know him better, Lucette would almost say that Varg looked discomforted at treating her so uncouthly. “Princess. I’ll remove my hand if you promise not to sing.”

Lucette turns her head away, clearly indicating her disagreement. Varg sighs, exasperated.

“Fine. Be that way.”

So it is in this awkward manner that they continue their search. It’s completely outrageous, the way Varg would rather hold her like a puppeteer rather than answer her question. Perhaps biting on his hand might yield better results.

As Lucette considers the option, Varg stops. He does a quick survey of the area, before slowly letting Lucette down.

“We’ll rest here for the night.” Varg says, turning Lucette around to face him. It takes some quick maneuvering so that one hand remains over her mouth with the other around her waist the whole time.  “I will also answer your question now, so. Do. Not. Sing.”

Lucette nods once. Varg slowly moves his hand away, and the tension in his shoulders eases when Lucette remains mum.

“Fritz isn’t gone completely.” Varg finally replies.

The answer inspires hope to swell where there was once pain in Lucette’s chest. Her knees nearly buckle in relief, but she forces herself to stand tall.

“Thank you for letting me know.”

Varg blinks, clearly not expecting the thanks. His usual grin returns to his face, and he inclines his head. “You’re welcome, my princess. You have my thanks as well for not subjecting me to your singing.”

Lucette glares at him. Any other day and she would have a snappy remark already returned, but the pleasant news of Fritz and the emotional rollercoaster from earlier has whittled her mind dry.

Now that she knew Fritz was safe, her previous exhaustion returns to her tenfold.

“So we rest here tonight?” Lucette turns half a step to inspect the tree Varg had stopped next to. Thick roots protrude the ground somewhat, and the base of the trunk is concave.

“Likely, a boulder or something of the sort was here before we were. A lucky find for our unlucky princess.” Varg says, resting a palm against the tree. “After you.”

Lucette stares at it for a second, grimacing.

“Or would you prefer the branches, princess?”

Lucette squeezes her eyes shut, letting out a breath to calm herself. Varg was right. This wasn’t a time to be picky.

Lucette’s lids are heavy as she opens them again. She walks briskly forward to rest against the tree, slowly settling onto the ground, glad for the moss that softens the earth somewhat.

At least she could rest her feet now, she supposes. They had been aching for a while now, from being on her feet the whole day practicing magic, to running through the backstreets and over uneven forest terrain.

As her face laxes in a contented manner, Varg’s eyes soften just the slightest. His lips twitch into something akin to a small smile, but disappears just as quickly when Lucette looks fully in his direction.

“Make room, princess.”

As he makes a flapping hand motion, Varg hovers over Lucette, who hesitates. “You’ll be sleeping next to me?”

Varg raises his eyebrows. “Where else?”

Lucette is almost tempted to object, maybe even throw a fuss. But Varg _had_ been the one to find this spot. It wouldn’t be fair if she were to deny him it.

“...Fine. But keep your hands to yourself.”

Varg raises both hands in mock surrender. “There is nothing about you that entices me, princess.”

“Good.” Lucette shuffles to the leftmost side of the crevice, allowing Varg to settle on the right.

Varg unclasps his cape, folding it over an arm before sitting next to Lucette.

“I had thought that the news about your loyal puppy would have lifted your spirits a little.”

“Why would you care.” Lucette says, but without the bitterness or edge. It’s a plain, exhausted statement. In truth, while her spirit is rejuvenated by the news, she feels her mind already slipping away from her grasp.

Leaning against the bark of the tree, finally able to relax, the weight of the day catches up to Lucette. Images whirl in her head, a slideshow of dead animals and the feeling of her mother’s icy cold hands. Miserable pessimism takes ahold of her once more.

Even if she were to reach Marchen, would anyone even welcome her? Was her belief misplaced like with her mother?

Was anything Varg said even reliable? Even if Fritz were in there, was anything he harboured truth?

Was there anyone who would truly, deeply, care for her?

She almost wishes time would turn back a year ago, when her life hadn’t spiralled into a huge, emotional mess. If only because it was so much easier to be the Ice Princess. To cage herself and her heart away from prying personal guards and his split personalities.

To be swallowed by numbness and uncare, to be unknown of love and hate and any other possibility in between.

Lucette leans her head back, utterly spent. She catches Varg staring at her, and quietly stares back.

The dim moonlight filtered through the canopy makes his figure look less dark, more of a warm grey. An open, gentle expression of acceptance rests on his normally hard features, the similarity of his gaze to Fritz’s startling. If not for his raven hair and mask, she could almost make believe that it was Fritz there, watching her as she’s always watched him.

“I’ve been asking myself the same question. I’m aware these feelings aren’t my own, and yet….” Varg smiles emptily. He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Lucette’s forehead. His fingertips are warm, and she nearly sighs at the comfort it oddly brings. “I guess his emotions for you are too strong. It’s rubbed off on me, and now i’m stuck caring for you too.”

Something forlorn flickers in Varg’s eyes. For that moment, Lucette sees not the gentle Fritz or the confident Varg.

For a moment, Lucette sees a stranger.

“Stupid. We both know who you’ll choose when the time comes.”

Care was so different from love. Yet did it really matter, when all she craved was affection? When all she wanted was Fritz?

When all she wanted was the man before her?

Moving slowly, as if not to rouse Lucette, Varg takes the cloak hanging on his arm, carefully unfurling it and covering Lucette.

Warmth envelops the auburn. There’s something sorrowful about the way Varg moves right now, something Lucette longs to soothe.

It’s the same way Fritz handles himself when.... It’s the same way Fritz has always handled himself, Lucette belatedly realises.

It’s the exact same.

“Varg?” Lucette asks sleepily.

“Yes, princess?” His reply is oddly soft.

It makes the word ‘Fritz’ trap in her throat.

“It’s nothing.”

Even through her sleep hazed gaze, Lucette can see Varg stifle a chuckle.

“If you say so, princess.” A heavy hand rests itself on Lucette’s head.

The last thing she sees before her vision gives is a stranger wearing a familiar face, splayed in both black and silver.


	3. virtues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which one person offers honesty, and the other reciprocates.
> 
> (but do untold truths count as lying?)

In the distance, a bird calls.

There’s a returning song, trilling Lucette out of her slumber. She makes a disconcerted sound, shifting as she wakes.

Blearily opening her eyes, the now bright surroundings eases her. Looking toward the sky, she wonders how long she’d slept for. It was hard to gauge, with the sun’s position blocked by layers of branches and leaves.

As Lucette makes a move to stand, she finds herself falling back down. Wincing at the sudden fall, Lucette rubs at her trembling legs. The weakness in her body surprises her.

 _‘Almost as if the air itself was pressing on me,’_ Lucette thinks, pulling herself to her feet once more.

As she does so, she realises with a start that Varg is no longer beside her, finding his spot from last night cold to the touch. He must have woken before her.

The only thing keeping Lucette from being thrown in a frenzy is the cloak still draped on her.

 _‘He wouldn’t leave the forest without his cloak,’_ she reasons, _‘or me. He can’t.’_

Taking a deep breath, she steadies herself. It was all still very worrisome, being lost in unknown territory alone with Varg.

But he would keep her safe. He wouldn’t just abandon her heartlessly - even barring Mythros’ instructions, Varg was still more similar to Fritz than he might care to admit.

Standing up, Lucette tucks the cloak around her shoulders. Although the morning chill isn’t anything she’s unused to, the extra layer of fabric helped her feel less vulnerable.

Just as she’s about to walk around to check out her surroundings, she spots Varg in the distance, walking back towards her. Catching sight of her awake, he grins, hastening his pace.

“Nice to see the princess awake.” Varg says, stopping before Lucette. “And staying put in one place. What a surprise.”

“If you wanted me to run, you could have just told me.” Lucette replies, crossing her arms. “I’ll gladly leave you behind.”

“And let you get more lost in _this_ place? In your dreams, princess.” Varg scoffs. His playful grin turns into a much more serious frown. “You realise, princess? This is no place to play around.”

Lucette looks at Varg, not understanding. “This is just Angielle’s border forest. I do not see what could possibly be so dangerous, apart from wild animals.”

Varg blinks. “Have you never picked up a history book, princess?”

Lucette balls a sleeve in a fist. “I am the crown princess of Angielle. Of _course_ I have. I have them practically memorised.”

“Then you must know what makes this forest so dangerous.” Varg says, resting a hand on his hip. He sounds more humoured than frustrated at Lucette’s apparent gap in knowledge.

“No, I don’t. None of my books ever covered the border forest in detail, apart from the fact that it separates us from Brugantia.” Lucette snaps. Not even the approximate measurements of the land had been written, she remembers. She had found it odd as a child, considering how the borders of the forest were entirely visible from both Angielle and their neighbouring country.

“Oh, of course.” Varg’s expression clears, and he shakes his head. “Yes. Her Majesty wouldn’t have taught you.” Varg pauses to clear his throat. “Time for a quick history lesson, then.”

He picks up a wayward stick, and begins drawing crude scribbles in the dirt. He's about as good at art as Fritz is, which is not very much at all. All Lucette can make out is three rectangles, the middle hurriedly coloured in with broad strokes. 

Varg taps the shaded area, speaking.

“In a nutshell, this forest used to house fairies during the Great War. Many fled here, either to seek refuge, or to attempt to leave the country. Either way, many spells of all types were casted here. It’s said that the energy from the magic seeped into the earth itself, changing it. In fact, from experiencing magic myself and walking around just now, i’d say the main influence that stuck with the forest is likely glamour.”

Tossing aside the stick, Varg holds out scraps of Lucette’s dress. “I found these while trying to retrace our steps early this morning. None of them lead anywhere I could recognise. Seems like even now, the forest warps the space and itself. Probably to protect itself from visitors, old and new alike.”

Lucette furrows her brows, taking the pieces of torn fabric. Stroking it, she instantly recognises it as parts of her skirt. “So you mean we’re stuck here?”

Again, silence dominates the forest.

Lucette looks up at Varg, who stares back at her. “Are we?”

To her surprise, Varg looks away. “No.”

Lucette’s eyes narrow. “But you said -.”

“I know what I said.” Varg snaps. Then he turns, so his back faces Lucette. “Let’s just find food for now.”

With that, he begins walking away. Lucette scrambles to catch up, taking extra large steps to accommodate for Varg’s much larger strides. Not to mention having to hoist the too long cloak away from her feet.

“This isn’t a conversation topic you can just shelve away!” Lucette insists.

“Watch me.” Varg stonily replies. He glares at Lucette from the corner of his eye. For the first time in weeks, Lucette feels genuine fear curdling in her at his gaze. “Don’t test me, princess.”

Lucette badly wants to push the topic, wants to know why he can’t just _tell her_ what all his cryptic nonsense meant. But she bites on her tongue and doesn’t.

They’ll be spending a lot more time alone than she’d like, and she would much rather not have to have an angry Varg facing her all the time.

“...Fine.” Lucette concedes. “But one more thing.”

“Spit it out.”

“If this forest is enchanted as you say, wouldn’t mother and Mythros be able to track us faster? Magic attracts magic after all.”

“Not necessarily.” Varg says, pushing an overhanging branch away. “From what Mythros was oh so kind to tell me, because the root of their magic are powered by different crystals, even magic signatures of fairies and witches differ. This difference ended up being a deciding factor in the Great War, as each race created new spells tailored for their kind yet deflecting that of the other. Since this place is so concentrated with fairy magic, the influence of a witch dwindles.”

As he says so, Varg grins, teeth bared and eyes half lidded. He rolls one shoulder, cracking it. “About time, really. That spying boy toy’s magic is disgusting.” He mutters under his breath.

Schooling his face back to a neutral expression, Varg tilts his head over his shoulder, looking at Lucette. “Besides, haven’t you felt weaker since entering?”

Lucette thinks back to this morning, to her jelly-like legs. No wonder she felt so tired. “...I have.”

“There you go.” Varg flashes her a smirk, then turns back around.

Conflict bursts in Lucette. On one hand, the immense relief at the thought of finally escaping her mother’s grasp, even if just for a few days, is crippling. On the other, it largely reduced their chances of leaving the forest.

As she thinks of her original destination, an idea strikes her.

“But if this place is saturated with fairy magic, then wouldn’t Parfait be able to find me?” Lucette asks with, dare she say, hope.

Varg barks a short laugh. “You mean the Lucis bearer? Sorry to burst your bubble princess, but last I heard, the bearer is barely hanging on from all the damage from the Great War _and_ sustaining continuous glamour spells for their hideout. I sincerely doubt if she’d have enough energy left to spare to find a lost little girl.”

Lucette’s hopes plummet as quickly as they rise. “So we _are_ stuck here.”

“I stand by what I said about leaving earlier.” Varg answers. This time, he doesn’t look back.

 _‘Whatever it was, anyway,’_ Lucette thinks exasperatedly.

At any rate, he had imparted quite valuable information. It was hard to imagine that such a serene forest was capable of so much, but Varg didn’t have any reason to lie to her.

Not anymore, now that he’d let slip that Mythros’ dominating magic had waned.

Now that he wasn’t a pure, concentrated being born to destroy. He wasn’t an enemy, completely painted in black, a creature made to be feared and hated.

Now, Varg was just a personification of something deeper within Fritz, something undiscussed and secretive. Something cruel and kind, painful and loving all at the same time.

Now, Varg was just...Varg.

Besides the cracking twigs and leaves beneath their feet and occasional bird song, their walk is silent.

Removing herself from her headspace, Lucette is beginning to realise that this is likely how a lot of their time is going to be spent together. In absolute, boring silence.

Turns out when Varg isn’t busy shooting his mouth off sarcastically and making fun of her, he spends his time brooding and silent.

A rather anticlimactic revelation that Lucette is quick to put aside.

She figures she should be looking out for edible plants, although Lucette’s loathe to admit that she has no clue what those may look like.

Lucette would ask Varg to just teach her, if not for the fact that she knew he’d likely tease her some more. She had meant to return his cloak as well, but it didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up right now.

It’s at these times that she misses Fritz.

Gazing at Varg’s back, her heart thuds painfully. She missed him. Her ever patient, kind Fritz. Even with Varg’s attitude now mellowed out, it could never compare to Fritz’s warmth. Underneath the cloak, Lucette wraps her arms around herself.

But she’d meet him soon. Lucette takes a slow breath, determination building. If Fritz was still fighting in Varg, then she owed it to him to fight her insecurities too.

With renewed vigour, Lucette casts her eyes over the forest floor. Even if she couldn’t recognise edible plants, surely she could try her luck with mushrooms.

Yet Lucette finds that even with the easily recognisable shape of fungi, the brown colours of the forest floor blend into one another too easily for her to recognise anything with a single cursory glance. She finds herself constantly bending over to take a closer look, only to find a shriveled leaf or dirt covered pebble.

“Princess!”

Jerking up her head up from her latest mushroom turned leaf, Lucette sees Varg already a ways ahead of her.

“What’s keeping you?” He says, arching a brow.

Too embarrassed to admit her failure, Lucette simply straightens herself. “Nothing. I’ll be right there.”

In her haste to catch up, Lucette forgets to gather Varg’s cloak, one foot getting caught in the fabric after no more than a few running steps.

 _‘In retrospect’,_ Lucette thinks, in the brief second between stepping on the hem and gravity doing its job, ‘ _this fall was imminent.’_

Managing to catch herself as she fell, Lucette unceremoniously lands skidding on her side. A shockwave of hurt bursts from her hip and palms at the abrupt landing.

Dazed from the sudden pain, she nearly tips forward when a pair of hands shoot forward to support her weight.

“I told you to keep up, not run!” Varg scolds, somehow already beside her. Despite his harsh words, his hands are gentle as he leans her frame against his. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Wordlessly, Lucette holds up her hands. Varg dusts the dirt off them, and the sight of a few light scratches makes him click his tongue.

“No blood drawn. You’ll survive these. Anything else?”

“Just…,” Lucette winces as she pushes herself off Varg. The closeness was making her weirdly uncomfortable. “My hip.”

Varg glances down, expression contemplative. Seeing that Lucette has no issues keeping herself upright, Varg stands. His hold on Lucette’s hands guides her to follow suit.

Thankfully, as she cautiously puts one foot before another, no second bout of pain follows. Just a numb throbbing remains.

“Do you think you can stand by yourself?” Varg asks.

“Yes.” Lucette nods, slowly. ‘ _If I can stand, it probably isn’t too serious of an injury’_ , she thinks.

Regardless, Varg doesn’t let go of her hands. If anything, his hold tightens.

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little.” Lucette admits.

“It might bruise, but since you can still walk and support your own weight, it shouldn’t be anything too bad. If the pain worsens, you tell me _immediately._ Understood?”

The seriousness in Varg’s eyes bore holes into Lucette. She’s never heard Varg sound so fierce either. She swallows at the sight of the worried line his lips are pressed into. Guilt at the sight makes her insides turn.

“Yes.”

Impromptu medical assessment done, Varg seems to finally realise that he’s still holding onto Lucette. He drops her hands, leaving her feeling oddly disappointed.

“Alright. Let’s get going then. And please, no more running, princess.”

“Wait.” Lucette says, grabbing hold on Varg’s arm as he turns to lead the way once more. “Your cloak. I forgot to return it.”

“Keep it. It’ll only get colder from here. You’ll need it.” Varg says, giving his cloak a look over. Then, a thought seems to occur to him, and he slaps his forehead with a palm. “You tripped on the cloak.”

Lucette flushes. “I just forgot to hold onto it. It’s too long for my height.”

A puff of laughter involuntarily escapes Varg, genuinely amused by their oversight. “You should have said something, princess.”

“It wasn’t a problem before.” Lucette argues back. This laughter, so different from his usual mocking ones, makes her abdomen flutter.

“Hold still, i’ll fix it.” Varg chuckles. He removes the cloak clasps from his vest, then takes the cloak off Lucette’s shoulders.

The sudden cold makes Lucette shiver, but the warmth of the cloak soon returns. As Varg rewraps the cloak around her shoulders, he gathers fabric from the length to shorten it.

With nowhere else to look except for the man’s face, Lucette finds herself drawn to it.

A rare look of pure focus embeds itself in his golden eyes, lips parted slightly with concentration. The mask blocks off most of his face, but his defined cheekbones and jawline aren’t. Unlike Fritz’s nature of an open book easing out his angular features, Varg’s sharp attitude emphasised upon them instead.

Judged solely by his looks, Varg was surely a very handsome man. But knowing him, knowing the person he could be, the person he was, Lucette cannot help but feel disgusted at her want for him.

Especially since it came from the sole fact that he possessed Fritz’s body.

Lucette hurts at her ability to be so awful. What made Fritz, made Varg want someone like her so much?

“All set.” Varg’s voice shakes Lucette out of her thoughts. No, this wasn’t the time. She should focus on the tasks before her right now; sorting out her messy feelings could wait till they had food and water.

Varg draws himself up, looking very pleased with his creation. “Walk around, princess. Try it out.”

Lucette nods, unable to trust herself with words. She takes a few steps forward, then twirls half a circle to face Varg once more. This time, the material doesn’t gather and trip around her feet, but instead sit neatly around her ankles.

“It’s just right.” Lucette says. She cannot help the small smile that presses on the edges of her lips. In spite of everything and what others would have her believe, Varg really was just like Fritz. Kind towards her to a fault.

Maybe that’s why she wanted to be able to have him so much.

“Thank you.”

Varg offers no comment in return, not even one of his usual flippant remarks. His eyes shine with wonderment, trained on Lucette’s face, an endearing look drawn in replacement of his previous smirk. Raw longing is etched into his twitching smile, into his fists by his side.

In that moment, he looks so alike to Fritz, yet not at all.

“...Varg?” Lucette calls tentatively.

In an instant, the Varg she knows snaps back. The image is shattered, and his mouth curls into a familiar, yet impressed, grin. “So our Ice Princess can smile, after all.”

Lucette frowns slightly, lifting a hand to her mouth. “I was smiling?”

Varg walks toward Lucette, poking her in the forehead once he gets beside her. “Yes. And in my opinion, you look much better that way.”

Lucette swats his hand away, and wills her cheeks not to burn. “I do not care for your opinion.”

Varg shrugs. Then he holds out an arm which Lucette does not take.

“To prevent anymore falls.” Varg explains.

Lucette stares at his arm as if it had another appendage growing out of it. Regardless, she slowly wraps a hand around it. It surprises her how little resistance she has to this notion. To being so close to Varg.

It seems the surprise isn’t one sided, as Varg takes a moment longer than necessary to continue walking.

“So what were you looking at before you fell flat on your pretty nose?” Varg asks.

Lucette turns away, remembering the faux-mushroom. He’d just make fun of her again. As much as she wanted to hear him laugh again, she did not like the thought of it being at her expense. “As I said, nothing.”

“I don’t think ‘nothing’ would have made our Ice Princess stop along the path so much.” Varg says.

Lucette glares at him. “So you did notice me walking slower? And you never thought to stop?”

Varg holds a hand up in defense. “I _did_ slow down. I just didn’t think you would end up that far behind. Anyway, I do think keeping up with me is your responsibility too, princess.”

There’s no retort to be had, since Varg is technically right. For most part, it _was_ her fault for not keeping pace and neglecting to let Varg know.

“I was looking for mushrooms.” Lucette says, albeit softer than her usual volume. It took some convincing from herself to admit it, if only to get Varg to stop bothering her about such an embarrassing incident.

“Could you speak up, princess?” Varg says, tilting his head down.

Lucette isn’t sure whether he’s faking it or not. “I was looking for mushrooms.” She repeats _louder,_ clenching his arm harder.

“So I did hear it right the first time.” Varg says. Mirth leaks from every word he speaks. “I appreciate the effort, but since I’m certain you’ll just pick poisonous ones, I would rather you stick to just paying more attention to where you go.”

The audacity! When she was going out of her way to do it for the both of them! The statement was hurtful in more ways than one.

“I was doing it because you told me to keep an eye out for edibles.” Lucette points out, fuming. “But fine. I suppose you prefer we starve to death then I do my part.”

“No need for dramatics, princess.” Varg laughs. “I’m sure I can find enough food for the both of us. But in case we really can’t find anything….”

Varg pats the sword and cane attached to his side. “I can work something out. So you just take care of yourself. That way, I can focus on our survival, instead of constantly worry about your wellbeing.”

His words make Lucette’s heart leap into her throat.

“You worry?” Lucette asks.

“Only because our princess has such a terrible tendency to get herself in trouble.” Varg replies quickly. A little too quickly.

Lucette tries to retort, to bring the conversation back to the topic at hand, but Varg interrupts her once more.

“Ah, there we go. I knew it was around here somewhere.”

Lucette faces forward to see what Varg was talking about. Taking in the new sight, she gasps.

In front of her is a slight clearing, where a solitary peach tree stands in full bloom. As they walk closer, Lucette spies plump fruit hanging on the branches, ripe enough to eat.

“Told you I knew what I was doing.” Varg says, a smug smile on his face. But for once, Lucette cannot be bothered to think up a witty remark for his snide ones, the thought of food occupying her mind.

Varg chuckles at her wide eyed wonder. Reaching up, he easily plucks a peach off a low hanging branch.

“Eat up, princess.” He says, handing it to her. Lucette takes it, eyes never leaving the fruit. It was supple to touch, skin a bright maroon and orange-yellow mix.

Tentatively, Lucette takes a bite.

The peach is tart and sweet, even juicy enough to quench her thirst. Swallowing the bite, Lucette immediately takes another.

“I’ll take that means it’s good.” Varg says, satisfied.

“It is.” Lucette agrees. Even if it meant stroking Varg’s ego by praising him again, he _did_ hold up his promise to find food. “Thank you.”

Varg simply waves it off. “That’s twice you’ve thanked me already, princess. Are you really feeling alright?”

“I know when to show my appreciation.” Lucette bristles. “And you’ve done more than enough to deserve it today.”

The second half of her sentence is said quieter, almost shyer. It was odd, thanking Varg instead of finding reasons to be mad at him. Yet funnily enough, the gesture didn’t feel out of place at all.

“You’re a lot more tolerable when you’re not trying so hard so be mean to me, you know.” Lucette tacks on.

Varg simply smiles at that. A quiet, forlorn smile that he offers, any time she mentions his cruel nature. Lucette’s heart twists at the sight, as it always does. But this time, fear of hurting him comes with the ache.

“I meant - .“

Before Lucette can correct herself, Varg silences her with a finger pressed to her lips.

“I know what you meant, princess.” He says, gentle and true. “But this big bad wolf has a role to play, and so he will.”

 _‘But why,’_ Lucette wants to ask. _‘Why do you have to be cruel to be the wolf?’_

But again, the beguiling look in his eye makes her not. Surely he would only be hurt more, if she were to.

After a moment, Varg breaks eye contact to look back at the peach tree. “Let’s collect some fruit and head back. The sun will be setting soon.”

Lucette cannot do anything else except nod.

The fruit collecting and walk back is conducted in silence. Apart from discussing how best to carry the peaches, they barely speak to one another, their last conversation still weighing heavy in the air.

Lucette shifts the cloak and makeshift basket. Varg had joked about using the outer layer of her petticoat, but given how empty a joke it was, Lucette had let it pass without comment.

By the time they arrive back at their rest spot, the tension in the air had grown thick enough for a blunt knife to cut through. Considering the number of awkward family dinners Lucette had forced herself to sit through, she thinks the fact that even she considers the tension unbearable must mean it to be a rather dire situation.

She waits until they’ve bundled the fruit to one side with the ruined remains of the outermost layer of her skirt, carefully cut at the seams, before speaking up once more.

“Varg.” Lucette starts, not knowing how else to.

The raven looks up at her, having already tucked himself away in the trunk to arrange the fruit beside him somewhat. “Yes, princess?”

“I never explained myself for just now.”

Varg looks away, sighing hard. “And I already told you you don’t have to.”

Lucette bends down, sitting on her knees beside Varg. His tired gaze follows her every movement.

“But I want to. I don’t want to hurt you just because you got the wrong impression of what I said.”

Varg raises a brow. “Don’t want to hurt me? Although i’ve given you more than enough reason to want to?”

He leans forward, until he’s barely a breath away from Lucette’s face. The intense look in his eye makes it hard for Lucette to maintain her poker face and not turn away. “Or should I remind you why it is you shouldn’t feel sorry for me?”

Usually this is enough to induce a pang of fear to run through Lucette, to make her want to push him away, the urge to scream crawling up her throat.

But after seeing new faucets of Varg today, Lucette only feels lonely. What was it that made him want to distance her so?

What was it in Fritz that made him want to push her away so much?

“Look at you, acting this way when you just told me last night that you cared for me.” Lucette says, looking him directly in the eye. “Is stringing females along a hobby of yours? What a terrible man you are.”

“Yes, I am a terrible man.” Varg says. The mask doesn’t help with making Lucette feel less intimidated, but she’s determined not to let herself be played according to his scheme. “A terrible, terrible man indeed.”

Suddenly, he’s swung a leg over Lucette’s frame, an arm slammed above her to cage her in. Even on his knees, he towers over Lucette.

“As i’ve said, don’t try me, princess.” Varg’s other hand finds its way under Lucette’s chin, tilting her head up to look at him. “After all, there’s no one around here to save you from me, you know. No one here to hear you scream.”

Lucette takes a shuddering breath. It hurts to breathe through the pounding pain in her chest. “Why do you pretend like this, Varg?”

Varg looks at her blankly. “None of this is a lie, princess.”

“It isn’t the truth either!” Lucette shoots back. “You wouldn’t hurt me. You know it.”

She thinks of good, mild-mannered Fritz. Who was honest only with things he wanted to be, and smiled his way out the rest of it.

She looks at fierce, brash-mannered Varg. Who was never afraid to be brutishly blunt, yet still hid his truth behind fancy words and smiles.

“I was right.” Lucette says, unable to stop the unhappy note from seeping into her words. “You and Fritz really are alike.”

At that, Varg hollowly laughs. “I suppose we are.” He lowers himself onto Lucette, who doesn’t move an inch. “We must be,” He continues, eyes flaring with anger. “Since even with me in front of you, all you seem to talk about is _him._ ”

Raw fury bleeds from his flashing eyes, his gritted teeth. Such honesty, even with feelings.

Just like the man Lucette had always known Fritz, known Varg, to be.

“Because you are a part of him.” Lucette says.

For the very first time, she reaches out to him first. Her hand is not shaking when she touches him, not this time. Not when there is no reason to.

Lucette strokes Varg’s cheek with her fingertips, sliding her hand forward until she’s cupping his face.

“Varg, whether you like it or not, you’re a part of Fritz. That’s why it hurts when you hurt me. I don’t think you mean it, but it still does. But that’s also why I don’t want to hurt you. I -.” Lucette pauses, words tangled and messy in her mind. “I want to love you as I love him.”

The words leave Lucette in one breathless rush.

She loved Fritz. Of course. It was all so easy to see now, when everything was said aloud. All the pain, all the side glances, all the bubbly joy.

Even with all the hubbub of the palace, her life, her emotions, Fritz had accepted her. Had loved her. In return, Lucette had fallen for Fritz, too. So much so that she was willing to fall for every side of him.

So much so that she had possibly already fallen in love with every side of him.

The astonishment isn’t limited to Lucette herself. Varg hasn’t spoken or moved since her confession. Lucette isn’t sure if he was still breathing.

“You want...to love me?” Varg says, almost in disbelief. He looks at her, spellbound, as if she had just plucked a star from the heavens and offered it to him.

But just as quickly, just as easily, the look crumbles into something darker, more loathing, more...Varg.

“Oh, princess. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Varg murmurs. “You don’t know anything at all.”

“Then tell me.” Lucette says, somehow still keeping her voice even, despite feeling desperate enough to want to beg him to. Why was it that everyone she ever loved would try to push her away?

Why was it that even Fritz, even Varg, who adored her to the point of blind devotion, would want to keep secrets from her?

“Tell me, Varg.”

Varg shakes his head regretfully. “It’s not my story to tell, my princess.” He presses his forehead to hers, moving his hand beneath her chin to tuck behind her head, cradling it. “I wish it was.”

All the words Lucette wants to say, wants to cry out, are crammed in her esophagus, choking her, silencing her. She feels her eyes glaze, but she doesn’t want to cry, not now.

“So I can’t try? I can’t love _you_?” Lucette asks, the last word coming out strained.

“You’ll get hurt.” Varg says, low, painful. Almost convincing. “Princess, you don’t understand. You said it yourself. I’ve already hurt you. I was _created_ to hurt you. Even if I don’t want to. That’s why you can’t love me, my princess. You’ll only grow sadder.”

“But Mythros’ influence is weak here.” Lucette argues. “And i’ll break the curse, somehow, when we get back.”

Varg sharply exhales. He cannot argue against her logic because she is right, Lucette realises. But Varg still struggles. “It’s more than just that. More than just a curse. Besides, you don’t even know anything about me, my princess. I’m not easy to love. ”

“So let’s get to know each other,” Lucette murmurs. “We can start with you removing your mask.”

No resistance is put up as Lucette raises her other hand to aid in untying the ribbon that fastens the mask to his face. Varg doesn’t shift at all, allowing Lucette to pull the strings apart with ease, carefully removing the accessory from his face with both hands.

There’s something additionally aching and honest in the way Varg looks at her now, unmasked, despite his expression never having faltered since she began the process.

“I knew you’d look good even without it.” Lucette says, with a smile punctuating the end.

“ _Princess_.” Varg whispers, almost pleading.

“I know.” Lucette says, gentle. “I know that i’m being selfish. That I might get hurt. That you’ll get hurt. But I want to try. You’re a part of Fritz, Varg.” Lucette struggles to get the words out right. “No, you’re more than that. Varg, you - it just wouldn’t be the same without you. So can’t I try?”

“Princess, I -.” Varg cuts himself off, swallowing. He stares into Lucette’s eyes, so wide and so determined to hold onto the man who denies even himself.

Then he laughs, breathlessly. It’s so, so different from any other sound she’s heard from him.

It’s the sound of awed, soft hope.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you to try.”

Hearing those words, Lucette cannot hold back a helpless sigh. It quickly dissolves into a hiccup as she holds back her tears, so relieved that her control over herself might just break like a dam.

“I’m sorry if I pushed you into this decision.” She murmurs. But she had wanted so badly, for even a chance to fully realise this love of hers. For a chance to love and be loved.

For a chance to love like she had been loved all these years by her favourite knight.

Varg laughs, full and deep bellied. It’s a sound that Lucette already wants to hear more of, even before this one reaches its end.

“You didn’t push me into anything, my princess. I wanted this as much as you did.” Varg confesses, before pulling away. “Even if I still don’t think any of this is a good idea.”

“Varg -.” Lucette is silenced by a gentle kiss to her cheek. Varg smiles wide, pleased with the pretty pink Lucette’s cheeks are dyed in.

“Please, my princess. No more questions. Let me have this moment.” Varg sighs, stroking her cheekbone with a thumb.

Varg looks at Lucette with such restraint, such longing, even with her so close to him that it makes Lucette hurt.

That it makes her wonder, exactly what Varg was created from, for him to so vehemently deny himself her.

Exactly what it was that Fritz thought of her.

For the first time, Lucette thinks her knight an enigma she never truly understood.


	4. baby steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which one learns to love, while the other learns to kill that heart capable of it.
> 
> (but what does that equate to, when that organ is shared?)

Every night since that talk, instead of Varg’s watchful eyes lulling Lucette to sleep, his even breathing did.

It was as if something inside Varg had chosen to let go, allowing him to rest peacefully against the warmth of Lucette’s side.

Still, every morning Lucette is greeted with a empty space beside her, Varg always a distance away. Whether it be returning from an early morning walk, or simply standing around busying himself.

And the look he throws her as she redoes her ponytail, when he thinks her sight is hidden behind a curtain of hair, is guilty, almost apologetic for their shared intimacy.

 _‘It’s funny’_ , Lucette thinks, fingers working in a braid, _‘to see Varg act so timid.’_

Absentmindedly, Lucette finishes her ponytail, tucking it in place.

Cracks have begun to splinter in Varg’s impenetrable wall of sneers and snark.

The truth of the matter was that Lucette isn’t quite sure how she should feel about it, when she has no idea as to what lies behind.

“Shall we go?”

At Varg’s timely call, Lucette stands, brushing herself off. “In a minute.”

Walking towards Varg, Lucette smoothly takes her position beside him, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Which direction are we going today?” Lucette asks.

It was evident from their previous three days of exploring that Varg knew his way around the forest somewhat. How and why he knew, he had refused to divulge.  

It wasn’t for Lucette’s lack of trying to find out either. She had tried to ambush Varg with every roundabout question she could think of, yet he still managed to leave nothing for her to even read between the lines.

Every question was met with pronounced silence, a mischievous smile, or a tap to the side of his nose.

“All best things are kept under wraps, princess.” Varg would say, and the topic would be dropped.

But he had never gotten them lost, or been unable to get them back to their temporary shelter, so Lucette just sighs and lets the matter slide.

Lucette finds that that’s become they common end to any topic that concerned Varg, or even Fritz.

Sometimes, when she would hesitantly bring up the latter, Varg wouldn’t answer at all. His eyes would unfocus, staring off into the distance. There’ll be a moment when Lucette fears the worse, then Varg squeezes his eyes shut, breathes, and so does she.

He’ll always turn to her, put his hand over hers, and say, “Still alive and kicking, princess. Just throwing a bit of a fuss inside.”

At those times, Lucette just wants to ask him if she could speak to Fritz, even for just a minute, because she longs for his comfort, his steady words and heartbeat.

But Varg always turns away too soon, always dashes the moment before she can even think of anything to say in reply.

Fortunately or not, she’s grown used to Varg’s avoidance and the subtle nature with which he spoke. She now realises that Varg doesn’t answer not because he can’t, but rather because he doesn’t want to, for reasons Lucette doesn’t feel its in her right to pry.

It’s a something that both Varg and Lucette have acknowledged. The actions and hurt caused by this darkness is something neither wish to talk about, yet Varg has spoken for in ways he leaves her when he can.

Varg has never said them aloud, but his apologies for his actions shine through in the ways he cares. Like the patient way he waits for Lucette to admire a peculiar tree, his words of caution over bumpy surfaces, his lips pressed against the crown of her head deep into the night, mouthing apologies and other words she cannot decipher.

It’s those odd moments of tenderness that makes Lucette ache for Fritz, for his presence and warmth. As much as the duo overlapped, as much as Varg’s newfound clement was welcome and desired, Lucette still sought the comfort of a more familiar voice, a more familiar devotion that had accompanied her for the roughest three years of her life.

Lately, as Varg softens, Lucette finds herself craving for Fritz’s company more and more. They weren’t two completely different people to her, no, not anymore. But they still shared different memories, had different dispositions.

So sometimes, just sometimes, when Varg would hold his arm out a little too stiff, or smile a little too crooked, Fritz’s image overlaps with his own and Lucette has to clench her jaw to not cry.

It isn’t that Varg isn’t enough. It was that Lucette had already grown to know and love Fritz, and being showed glimpses of Fritz while not actually seeing him only made her want him more.

They were the same person, yet so, so different. And seeing one behave like the other, seeing Varg and being denied Fritz, was unbearable.

Lucette thinks she must be the worst woman alive, to have a perfectly devoted man before her, and still demand more of him.

Lucette looks at Varg out of the corner of her eye. His face is angled away from her, and in the morning light, his features soften just so, even highlighting his black hair grey.

Varg said that she shouldn’t love him, for it would be hard. But she thinks he should listen to his own advice too.

“West.” Varg says, looking back. Lucette pretends that she wasn’t staring, but Varg’s wolfish smile tells her he’s already caught on. “See something you like, princess?”

“In your dreams.” Lucette says, determinedly keeping her eyes on the road forward. She’d carry these truths with her until she died. It was her cross to bear, not his. “Let’s go.”

“As you say.” Varg says, not hiding the laugh in his voice, blissfully unaware.

As usual, Varg leads them through the woods. Today is a warmer day, with plenty of sunlight filtering through the leaves. But the cloak still remains around Lucette, on Varg’s insistence.

Walking along the unfamiliar path, Lucette looks around and wonders not for the first time how odd this forest was.

She hadn’t noticed it at first, but there were hardly any animals inhabiting the area. Apart from the songbirds she would hear in the morning, there was no sign of any animals at all. Not a single footprint or bone was to be seen.

Varg couldn’t understand her puzzlement, since he regarded it as a good sign. Improved their chances of survival, he had said.

Lucette just supposes it felt weird, being one of the only autonomous creatures in such a large environment. The lack of natural sounds didn’t help with reducing the discomfort - it made the place feel flat and unalive.

Uneasy, Lucette had begun to press closer to Varg on their excursions. He must have sensed her worry, for he said nothing of it, and talked more often than he usually would.

“I have a good feeling about this direction today.”

“That’s what you said yesterday.” Lucette says. “And all we found was a pile of dirty rocks in front of an empty cave.”

“You wound me, princess.” Varg replies, putting a hand over his heart. “But the cave was entertaining, was it not? Oh, wait. You didn’t go in because you were too frightened.”

“I had every reason to be.” Lucette huffs. “We didn’t have a torch with us, nor any idea what could be inside. It was dangerous.”

“So you made me go in alone. Right. My princess has a heart of steel.” Varg says, pretending to wipe away a tear.

“As I recall, you volunteered to go in. Even when I told you not to.” Lucette says. “Let’s not forget what you did, too.”

Going into the cave without a plan or any source of light had been a bad idea, as Lucette expected. While she waited outside, anxious, Varg had somehow managed to disturb an entire colony of bats. They had rushed toward the exit in a screeching black mess, scaring the wits out of Lucette.

She’s just thankful she had been too shocked by the sudden appearance of the flying mammals to scream aloud, although it had been embarrassing to be found by Varg as a shellshocked statue.

“Hey, all I did was knock on the cave ceiling.”

Lucette looks at Varg pointedly. “With your cane, while yelling at the top of your lungs for ‘any living bastard to come out and fight’.”

“I might have overdone it out of sheer boredom.” Varg admits. “But I never knew you could go so pale. It was a good, new look.”

Lucette feels her face grow warm. “At least one of us had fun yesterday.” Lucette mutters.

“Lighten up, princess.” Varg pats her hand tucked in his elbow with his other hand. “It’s not everyday you get to see so many bats at once.”

“I never wanted to.” Lucette bluntly replies. “So do not phrase it like it was a rare opportunity I should have enjoyed.”

“Such a wet blanket.” Varg says, filled with enough fondness that his words do not prick at Lucette. “Then it will please you to know that today doesn’t have any bats on its agenda.”

“Another place you just happen to know?” Lucette asks, tilting her head, inserting a not so subtle jab at Varg’s refusal to tell her why he knows his way around so well.

“Something like that.” Varg replies, not taking the bait.

“...Even if you don’t want to tell me how you know this forest, you could just make up a story.” Lucette says, fed up at his evasive answers.

“I could.” Varg says. “But I don’t want to lie to you.”

Lucette immediately flushes red.

Varg spots her cherry cheeks, and grins. “Red is such a becoming colour on you, princess.”

“You’d think so.” Lucette murmurs.

“I know so.” Varg hums.

There’s a brief period of silence that Lucette is glad for. God only knows she could stand so much from Varg. He made the butterflies in her stomach absolutely unbearable.

With silence reigning once more, Lucette swears she can hear the sound of thundering water in the distance.

“Is the place you’re bringing me to somewhere with water?” She asks, half-anticipatory. As juicy and delicious the peaches were, some mornings she found herself just craving a simple glass of water to quench her thirst.

“‘Fraid not, princess.” Varg says, giving her an odd look. “Why the specific question?”

“I thought I heard water.” Lucette replies, slightly disappointed.

“Really now.” Varg says, stopping in his tracks. “I didn’t hear anything like that when scouting this area.”

“But I heard it.” Lucette says, stopping too.

“I’m not calling you a liar, princess.” Varg says. “Maybe I just -.”

“Hush!’ Lucette presses her fingers to Varg’s mouth. “I can hear it again.”

The two stand in silence, waiting. Sure enough, a loud rushing sound that cannot be mistaken as anything else but water can be heard faintly in the distance.

“See!” Lucette says triumphantly, removing her hand. “Water!”

“Truth to be told, I hear more than I can see the water, princess.” Varg smirks.

Lucette rolls her eyes at the poor joke. “Let’s take a quick detour?” Just thinking about freshwater makes her parched.

“If that’s what my princess wishes.” Varg says.

“But will you lose your direction towards wherever you were bringing me?” Lucette asks, concerned. Freshwater enticed her, but she _had_ been looking forward to whatever surprise it was that had made Varg look so delighted after returning from his solo scout yesterday night.

“Hmm, should be fine.” Varg says, as he steers himself toward the sound of water. “My sense of direction is better than most.”

Lucette thinks of all the times Fritz had found her in the palace’s garden labyrinth, no matter how many turns she had taken to hide herself away. “So it is.”

Briskly, they make their way towards the source of the noise.

True to their instincts, the source turned out to be a beautiful, large waterfall.

Water arcs from a breach in the stone wall, crashing down elegantly into a wide pond. Vines and moss alike spilled from the top of the wall, clinging onto the slippery stone. A circle of rocks roughly mark the waterfall’s outline, piling and falling in certain areas to create slight surfaces. Trees grew sparsely around the waterfall, lending a few stray leaves to the pristine pond.

Lucette steps near the rim of the pond, admiring how it was clear enough for her to see the bottom.

“Don’t fall in, princess.” Varg says, pulling her upright and backwards.

“I’m not so clumsy.” Lucette says, slightly insulted.

Varg raises an eyebrow, blatantly looking at the cloak draped on her figure.

“That was hardly my fault!” Lucette snaps, thinking back to her previous fall. Just remembering the accident makes her embarrassed. “You know that.”

“I’m just joking.” Varg grins. Lucette clicks her tongue in displeasure, but the sound only makes his grin grow wider.

Seeing that Varg wasn’t going to let her live that accident down any time soon, Lucette swiftly changes the topic. “I’m going to go take a drink.”

“Hold on.” Varg physically holds Lucette back, who frowns. “I’ll test it first. We don’t know if it’s safe. Don’t want you collapsing on me anytime soon.”

“I don’t want you collapsing either.” Lucette objects, but Varg is already scooping a palmful of water to try. He takes a short sip, rolling the water around in his mouth.

After Varg’s ominous words, the once enticing water now looks nothing less than suspicious to Lucette. So when Varg swallows the water and stops moving, Lucette immediately has both hands on a shoulder, shaking him.

“Varg! Spit it out!” Lucette shouts, panicked. “That’s a command!”

Shocked by the sudden shake, Varg chokes on the mouthful of water. “Princess, what - !” Coughing overcomes him, as does anxiety Lucette.

“Varg!”

In the midst of her shaking, a firm hand comes to rest on both of hers. Varg squeezes her hands tightly, shaking his head, indicating for her to stop. Biting on her bottom lip, Lucette does.

Varg has puts fist over his mouth as he coughs, but doesn’t remove his hand from Lucette’s, as if trying to ease her mind.

“I - I’m fine.” Varg wheezes. “The water’s fine. I just - hack - nearly choked on it.”

Lucette realises it’s probably her fault for shaking him while he swallowed, but it really was his fault for scaring her about the water first. “You deserved it, after that scare about the water being poisonous.”

“It was a genuine concern.” Varg protests.

“Then you shouldn’t have swallowed.” Lucette rebukes. “You scared me.”

Varg looked like he was going to protest more, but hearing Lucette’s quiet admission, he simply squeezes her hands once more.

“I won’t die so easily. Not with you still needing me.” Varg smiles.

At that, the butterflies in Lucette’s stomach have all but exploded, moving in such a flurry that Varg’s on hers feels incredibly hot.

Ripping her hands from his, all Lucette could do was bend down next to him and pretend to have seen something in the water.

“If you say so.” Lucette says, somehow able to keep her voice even.

Not knowing what to say next, Lucette dips her hands into the pond, happily surprised by the cold temperature. She carefully scoops water with both her hands and without hesitation, takes a drink. It’s immensely refreshing. She’d almost forgotten how clean water could taste.

She drinks the whole handful of water in one long gulp. It’s only when she’s finished that she finds Varg looking at her, a half-smile still on his face.

“Is there something on my face?”

Varg continues staring at her with that odd smile for another moment longer. “Nope.” Varg answers. For some reason, he looks reenergised.

Not understanding, Lucette mentally shelves it away as another one of Varg’s idiosyncrasies.

After both have drank their fill, Varg sits on his heels, attention captured by the waterfall.

“...I’ve never seen this around before.” Varg mutters under his breath. Clearly, he is talking to himself, and Lucette isn’t one for eavesdropping, apart from the fact that she’s kneeling so close to him that she can hear even his slightest sigh.

Still, pretends she cannot hear anything over the roar of the waterfall.

“Did you say something?” Lucette asks.

“I think I can see something behind the waterfall.” Varg easily covers up, squinting. He pushes himself up, hands on his knees. “Maybe a cave.”

Immediately, Lucette is on her feet, grabbing the back of Varg’s vest.

“You told me there’d be no bats today.” Lucette frowns.

“And I’m sticking to it. I don’t think you can find bats in caves behind waterfalls. It’s too loud for their liking.” Varg says, eyes fixed on the waterfall.

Before Lucette can stop him, Varg is toeing off his shoes and socks and rolling up his pants. She looks on with disbelief as he treads into the water, breaking apart the crystal surface. The water barely comes up to his ankles.

Seeing Lucette with her shoes still on, Varg beckons for her to follow.

“C’mon, humour me, princess. It’s just a short walk.”

“A short, wet walk.” Lucette amends. It’s crazy, she thinks, to just go in and explore another cave. There might not be bats, but who’s to say there isn’t something more sinister inside?

But it wasn’t as if Varg was going to listen to any sensibility at this point.

Closing her eyes, Lucette resigns herself. Even if Varg _were_ to go in alone, it’d be better if she was directly outside the waterfall, ready to pull him out in a moment’s notice.

“Fine.” Lucette sighs. Unlike Varg, she takes off her shoes properly, making sure to leave them on a rock where the water cannot reach. After a bit of hesitation, she removes the cloak as well. If it were to get soaked, it’d only become a heavy burden on the both of them to carry back and wring dry.

Hiking up her skirt, Lucette joins Varg in the water. The moment she steps in, she automatically gasps.

“It’s colder than I thought.” Lucette says.

They take small steps, careful to watch out for any possible holes. Eventually, the waterfall creates a current too rough for them to get any closer. Water splashes around Lucette’s knees, while Varg remains only calf-deep.

“Well, it’s about to get a lot colder.” Varg says, indicating to the waterfall they were to step through.

“There’s no way i’m going.” Lucette firmly states. “I’m just here to make sure I can pull you out if things go awry.”

“Aw, is our little princess scared?” Varg teases.

“No, just sensible.” Lucette retorts, rolling her eyes. “Don’t come out crying when you get hurt.”

“I won’t. I’ll even bring a souvenir back. Is there anything in particular you’d like? Maybe a sense of adventure?”

“Your common sense.” Lucette deadpans.

“That’s not with this version of me.” Varg says, grinning.

He wades closer, seemingly unbothered by the rough waves. Rolling up his sleeves, Varg puts an arm through the waterfall, feeling around.

With her free hand on her hip, Lucette watches as Varg puts his other arm in as well.

 _‘What is he doing?’_ Lucette thinks.

Suddenly, Varg pulls back both his arms. He turns, taking great strides back to Lucette, who raises a brow, thoroughly confused by his actions.

“Aren’t you going in?”

Varg pauses for a moment, mouth shut.

“There’s nothing.” Varg eventually says with much disappointment. “Just a deep indent.”

“There’s -.” Lucette cuts herself off with a huff of laughter. “And you were making so much fun at me for not wanting to go in. When there’s nothing there.”

Lucette finds herself giggling, then giving way to full blown laughter. She claps a hand over her mouth, unable to stop.

She laughs until the ache in her bones ease, until the water around her grows warm and everything, in that moment, feels at peace.

She doesn’t remember when was the last time she laughed like that. She doesn’t remember when was the last time she laughed at all.

As her laughter teeters to an end, Lucette realises that Varg has been simply looking at her all the while again. For once, she isn’t bothered, and simply smiles at him, the hand still covering her mouth.

“How silly.” She says between giggles.

The phrase melts whatever trance her laughter had put Varg in, as his stunned expression gives way to a roguish grin.

“It was.” Varg confesses, scratching the back of his neck. The action is reminiscent of someone else. “But I got to hear your lovely laugh, so I think it counts as my win.”

Lucette shakes her head, shoulders still shaking with mirth. She lowers her hand, revealing a shy smile. “Flirt.”

“Only with you.” Varg easily says. Just as naturally, he takes her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of the water before you catch a cold.”

Lucette feels her heart flutter at the ease with which he holds her hand. She thinks her body temperature has risen enough with the gesture to render his worries moot.

Varg guides her out the pool, taking smaller and slower steps than usual. Soon, he’s led her to the edge.

He steps out first, and Lucette, almost afraid that he might let her hand go, holds onto him tighter. Varg reciprocates, an unusually tame grin on his face.

“Mind your step, princess.”

Once on dry land, Lucette finds them both a spot beneath the sun, where they sit and stretch their legs out to dry. To her surprise, Varg hasn’t let go of her hand at all. Instead, he intertwines their fingers, laying out their hands between them, almost unconsciously.

“Wasn’t it fun, princess?” He says, leaning his head on his shoulder.

“Hardly.” Lucette replies, despite her twitching lips.

Varg laughs, full and content. Sitting in the sun, with Varg happy beside her, a painful sort of joy rouses in Lucette.

She’d known someone who lived his entire life looking like he belonged to the sun, too.

“Fritz used to laugh like that.” Lucette says, the words leaving her almost unconsciously. “When he first served under me.”

The moment she speaks, Lucette regrets it. Varg never enjoyed hearing her talk about Fritz, so why would she bring him up now, in this blissfully happy moment?

Varg pauses, staring off into the distance. Strangely, he doesn’t seem disturbed like he usually is. A melancholic sort of calmness seems to settle on his form, in his eyes that turn toward Lucette.

“Did he?” Lucette blinks at the honest, bittersweet smile on his face. “I wouldn’t know.”

Something about the way he smiles tells Lucette that he might answer whatever question about Fritz and him he usually brushed off.

“How much of his memories do you actually share?” Lucette dares, carefully structuring her voice to be unquestioning, undemanding. Purely curious.

“Not much.” Varg looks away again, towards the waterfall in the distance. “Yet everything all at once. Before Mythros personified me as a curse, I kept fragments of Fritz. I know enough to understand him, but not enough to be him.”

The self-loathe in Varg’s voice returns. But it isn’t a vicious sort of hate, rather, a subtle resignation.

“I think you’re plenty alike.” Lucette pipes up. “You even have his mannerisms.”

She mimes touching the back of her neck. “It’s a nervous tic of Fritz’s. You do it a lot.”

Ironically, Varg reaches to scratch his neck at the mere mention. Catching himself in the act, he looks at his hand, surprised.

“So I do.”

“Both of you really are the same.” Lucette says, pulling her knees to her chest. “Did Fritz always know you were in him?”

“Yes.” Varg’s answer is a low sigh, a tired hum. “That coward did.”

Lucette frowns at the name calling, despite the lack of spite behind the intent. It seemed so unbelievable, that clumsy, good-natured Fritz could have hidden a potently vile side of himself.

“Then why did he always pretend to not?” Lucette has to force herself to say it. It hurt unimaginably to doubt Fritz. To doubt all his years of devotion.

To doubt his love.

“Just because he never spoke of me, it doesn’t mean that he pretended not to know of me, princess.”

It’s the first time Lucette has ever heard Varg speak so gently of Fritz. Almost as if he was speaking about a long lost lover, a bittersweet crush.

Suddenly, Varg loosens himself from Lucette’s grip, standing up.

“Let’s get a move on. If we don’t, it’ll get too late to go to our original destination.”

“Wait!” Lucette hurries to stand, unasked questions still burning on the tip of her tongue. “I still have things I want to know.”

“We can continue our conversation there, my princess.” Varg says, somehow already properly dressed. The cloak is in his arms, ready to be donned on Lucette once more. He pulls the cloak around her shoulders, fastening it tight.

“I promise.”

Left without a choice, Lucette agrees. For some reason, something in the way Varg speaks tells her that this time, he won’t run away from the conversation.

Fastening her shoes on, Lucette walks toward Varg, who holds out his hand.

“Ready, princess?”

Gingerly, Lucette takes it. His hand is calloused from sword practice, burnt from magic use.

Holding it is an unfamiliar practice, a questionable promise of what might come.

“As i’ll ever be.”

 

* * *

 

The forest is silent as always but this time, with Varg holding her hand, Lucette feels the atmosphere shifting. Unnatural it may be, but serene as well.

The glow of the sun floods their path, dying the woods in the warmth Lucette feels blossoming in her middle. Sunspots dance on Varg’s form, catching his golden eyes and metallic uniform embellishments delightfully well.

His acceptance of Fritz only served to amplify their likeness, the fact that they were a single person.

As bad of a person Varg tried to paint himself to be, Lucette had always been able to tell the grudging care with which he spoke of Fritz.

It reminds her of the way Fritz had flinched at the mention of Varg, at her revelation of his other self. Something painful yet dear in the way he had not denied Varg’s existence, in the way he had believed her.

And when he had held her, whispered all those promises the last time they had met. His vow to protect, the quiet, quiet, sadness in the way his body had left hers, the broken way he had muttered, _“but it seems like I have also been the one to give you so much pain”,_ Lucette had felt afraid.

But who was she afraid of, or afraid for, she still doesn’t know.

There was always something more to Fritz’s upset, Lucette believed. Something brewing dark and angry, something locked away and muzzled.

Something that Varg embodied, something that Varg was created from and powered by.

Lucette recalled Fritz, so attentive in the way he remembered every single little detail about her, even those she wanted to forget. So endearing in the way he had smiled and laughed with her, for her.

So disappointed at the existence of Varg, so passively accepting of him.

In that instance, Lucette realises that she had seen Varg in Fritz too.

Only more subdued, less expressive.

“Oh, we’re already here.”

Breaking past forest border, the sudden glare of sunlight blinds Lucette, forcing her to shut her eyes. She stumbles another few steps forward, rubbing her watering eyes.

When the pain clears, holding a hand above her eyes, Lucette slowly opens them.

The sight she’s met with blows all her previous thoughts away.

Wildflowers fill every inch of the clearing, a carpet of multi-petaled colours. The setting sun paints the field a gorgeous hue of orange, livening up the already colourful flowers. Sprouts of tall grass fill in the gaps where no flowers grow, covering the entire land with colour.

“Incredible, isn’t it.” Varg says, one hand on his hip.

Incredible hardly covers how stunned Lucette is right now. She’d read that the world beyond the palace was beautiful, enchanting even, but she never truly understood what all those books meant until now. Breath stolen, unable to find any words to describe this picturesque fairy tale scene.

“How’d you find this place?” Lucette asks, stepping forward. Varg just shrugged, letting go of her hand to allow her to roam free.

A light breeze picks up her hair, the light scent of fresh flowers trailing after it.

Wandering around and taking the sight in, Lucette feels like she’s walking in a dream come to life. Beneath her feet, there was a seemingly infinite assortment of wildflowers. It was amazing how flowers of all sorts had learnt to coexist in this unattended garden.

Occasionally, an especially pretty flower catches Lucette’s eye, beckoning her to take a closer look, or maybe even pick it. Before she knows it, a thick bunch of flowers are gathered in her hands.

The last time she had been so at peace amongst flowers, there had been a banister separating her and Fritz, an incomplete flower ring lying forgotten but not unseen amongst the blooms he’d picked for her.

Now, glancing back at Varg who’d settled down somewhere in the centre of the clearing, without anything barricading them, Lucette wonders why it still doesn’t feel enough.

Why, even with Fritz’s fond look in Varg’s eye, does her heart clench painfully.

Even with Varg’s faithful eyes watching her, lips quirked in an easy smile, as he, no, _they_ always have.

Making her way to where Varg sits, Lucette finds the movements easy, like how she’s always meant to move.

Gravitating towards him.

“Don’t you have anything better to than watching me all the time?” Lucette asks, sitting next to Varg. She tucks her legs under her, the cloak billowing around her position.

“Unfortunately, I find nothing more enjoyable.” Varg replies. He follows the movements of her hands, and how they rearrange the flowers on her lap. “What’re you doing?”

Lucette doesn’t reply. She simply picks up several flowers, and begins a complicated knotting process.

As a chain of flower slowly emerge, Varg smirks.

“A flower crown? I didn’t think you had such a cute hobby, princess.”

“Fritz taught me how to weave one a long time ago.” Lucette replies, too lost in her memories to bother rebutting Varg.

A plain banister, the handfuls of wildflowers Fritz had laid on it, before her. His nimble fingers working quietly, eyes for once, trained on something that wasn’t her.

“Seems like you two had some really nice times together.” Varg hums, leaning his shoulder against Lucette.

“...We did.” Lucette softly says. But that had only been in the beginning, when he was first assigned as her personal guard.

Fritz had been so impossibly nice and patient, trying everything possible within his means as a knight to get her to open up to him.

Yet his earnest nature had only made Lucette more afraid of an eventual betrayal, so she had immediately put it to a stop with a command. It had been one of the worst moments of her life, to have had to tell Fritz to his face that she appreciated none of his pleasantries, and if he continued, she’d have him dismissed.

And still, the way Fritz had looked at her had never changed.

His gentle acceptance of her had never wavered.

Weaving a flower crown was easier than she thought it would be. Back then, she’d only watched, as Fritz completed the last request he asked of her before he backed off trying to be her friend completely.

Now, holding the completed flower crown in her hands with Varg being the one impressed, she thinks of how the tables have turned.

“Here.” Lucette says, putting the flower crown on his head. It lands lopsided, too long to be a perfect fit. “You can have it.”

Varg blinks, raising a hand to touch his new accessory.

“So you can always bring happiness with you.” She recites, remembering what Fritz had done and said back then. She hadn’t understood why, until she opened a herbology book and saw the flowers Fritz had used listed inside.

Varg picks up one of the flowers on Lucette’s lap, twirling it between his fingers. “Dandelions, huh?” He smiles. Then, he moves closer to Lucette, tucking the flower behind her ear.

The back of his fingers trace her ear, then down her jawline, coming to a rest near her cheek.

Suddenly, Lucette is glad for the setting sun dying the field in shades of red and orange, if only so she could blend her cheeks with the rest of the warm tones splayed across her face.

“Princess,” Varg slowly begins, eyes never leaving her. “What do you know about the story of Little Red Riding Hood?”

“...Only that Little Red Riding Hood ends up getting eaten by the wolf.” Lucette replies, unsure of where the conversation was heading.

Varg chuckles, moving his hand back to prop on a bent knee. “So not much. Then let me tell you.

“A long time ago, there was a girl called Little Red Riding Hood. One day, she was tasked by her mother to bring fresh cake and a bottle of wine to her sickly grandmother who lived in the forest. Her mother warned her not to stray off the path, so Little Red Riding Hood promised not to. But on her way to her grandmother’s, Little Red Riding Hood met the Big Bad Wolf.

“So innocent was she that she never heard of his wickedness, and struck up a conversation with him. While talking, not only did Little Red Riding Hood give the Wolf the instructions to her grandmother’s house, she was also convinced to pick a bouquet for her grandmother, breaking her promise with her mother.

“While she busied herself, the Wolf went to her grandmother’s cottage and ate her grandmother whole. Later when Little Red Riding Hood arrived, she was also gobbled up by the Big Bad Wolf. However, the Hunter, who saw the Wolf asleep on the grandmother’s bed with a bulging stomach, saved Little Red Riding Hood by cutting the Wolf open with his axe. The end.”

Finishing the story, Varg reaches out his arm once more, this time stroking the side of Lucette’s head. His thumb brushes against the petals of the dandelion behind her ear.

As quiet falls around them, Lucette is suddenly made aware of the darkening sky, momentarily blanching out the colours around them.

It cuts the shadows over Varg’s face harshly, sharp and jagged. Amber eyes glowing fluorescent, a warning light.

“And right now, my Little Red Riding Hood, you’re being led astray by the Big Bad Wolf.” Varg whispers, leaning forward. His thumb traces over her cheek, across her lips. A dark gleam Lucette hasn’t seen in his eyes for days returns with vengeance.

“Oh, my princess. Fritz would be so upset to see you like this. Entranced by me.”

Cooler hues have completely replaced the previous oranges, coating the shadows of Varg’s face a cold indigo. Their starry backdrop nearly blends into his raven hair, nearly takes a hold of him and never returns, if not for Lucette’s sudden hold of Varg’s face.

“No, he wouldn’t.” Lucette returns, quite breathlessly. The spark in Varg’s eyes, gazing at her with such ferocity and want, made her lose her breath so easily. “After all, you’re him too, aren’t you?”

Lucette cradles Varg’s face between her hands, gently taking hold of the atmosphere. Intimidation was a poor tactic, now that she no longer could tell the difference between the wolf and the hunter.

“Why do you deny yourself like this, Varg?” Lucette murmurs, brows creased. “Why do you deny yourself Fritz, when you’re both the same person?”

Varg’s expression breaks at the edges, then shatters entirely. The helplessness is so foreign that Lucette has to bring her face closer to his, if only to share a little comfort.

“I’m not the one doing the denying, my princess.” Varg replies tersely. “I’m just trying to protect you from what has been caged for so long.”

Varg takes Lucette’s left hand, pressing a kiss to the palm. A shaky sigh slips past his lips, trembling and uncertain against Lucette’s skin. “I wasn’t lying when I said you’d get hurt by loving me. I just didn’t tell you who’d be the one hurting you.”

Fear strikes Lucette, makes her heart thump faster and come to a stop all at once.

“Fritz wouldn’t hurt me.” Lucette says, firm. “He couldn’t.”

“Fritz also thought he’d buried me away in his heart.” Varg’s empty smile can barely be seen behind Lucette’s hand. “Yet here we are.”

He kisses her palm once more, nuzzling into it.

“Princess, Fritz and I are one and the same. I have never lied to you about anything he has felt. I would not start now. We - _I,_ cannot be loved, princess.” Varg insists gently. “Fritz doesn’t want to be.”

“None of you get to decide that.” Lucette hisses, ferocious. A flare of raw determination bursts within her, cutting through all the pain and doubt sinking into her bones, as years of pessimism has trained them so well to do.

“If we all got to decide whether we deserved love, deserved anything at all, none of us would attain anything. And you deserve it, Varg. You and Fritz both. Both of you showed me that.”

Lucette inches closer, pressed so close to Varg’s face that she can see the yellow that lines his golden irises, that she can see the way the rising moon paints the light that catches on Varg’s eyelashes silver.

“I want you, Varg. I love you. Both of you. And if Fritz doesn’t want me, then you can tell him to come out and tell me that himself.”

Hearing that, Varg’s eyes crinkle in a silent laugh. “I don’t know what else I expected from my feisty princess.” He sighs, moving Lucette’s hand away from his mouth to tangle it with his own hand. “I’m already yours, my princess. But Fritz….”

Varg closes his eyes tight and sighs again, more frustrated, more melancholic.

“Fritz is a complicated man.” Varg says.  “He loves purely, as does he hate. And i’m what’s born from that intersected contradiction.”

When Varg opens his eyes once more, he stares deep into Lucette’s, seeking understanding. “Fritz, the other me, is a man kind to a fault. Chivalrous and good natured, kind and compassionate. But magic cannot create something out of nothing, and so I was created from the darkness within Fritz. Cruelty, viciousness, even my compulsion to hurt you. They were all innate.

“Fritz is more complicated than he seems and more troublesome than he’s worth. He loves as strongly as he hates, and in that he suffers. Princess, _I am the consequence._ I am not telling you you cannot love him, love me, but that you must be prepared.”

Varg’s words are heavy, complex, and too full of unanswered questions for Lucette to properly process and figure out how she should feel about it all.

“Prepared?” Unknowing of what else to say, Lucette simply echoes Varg’s warning.

Varg smirks, full of teeth.

“Because now, i’ll return Fritz to you, princess. Understand that coward. Convince him. That he’s worth the one thing he’s desired for so long. That he deserves something, even if I am what he created in the midst of that desire.”

Before Lucette can say anything, Varg has a hand behind her neck, and softly presses his lips to hers.

It’s nothing magical, and there aren’t any fireworks. But there’s no pain either, no twisted sense of possessiveness Varg used to treat her with.

There’s just aching want, and a sense of trust for someone who might love them much more than either has ever realised.

When they break apart, neither move in for a second kiss.

“I will.” Lucette whispers, with a voice so fragile it nearly fractures at the conviction in her tone.

“Then it’s time for my curtain call.”

Detaching himself from Lucette’s space, Varg turns his torso back toward the front, stretching both arms above his head.

“It was fun, these few days. Show more of that happiness to Fritz too.”

So forlorn was the way he said it, that Lucette pushes herself to her knees, leaning forward to kiss him again. It’s a chaste, clumsy kiss, but Varg leans back in towards it, sighing so contentedly that Lucette doesn’t think it matters.

“Do not speak as if you will be gone. You must come back to me.” Lucette demands, as they part.

“For as long as you need me.” Varg murmurs.

With that, Varg gently moves Lucette away, eyes slipping shut.

Shadows envelope his body, warping and distorting around his figure. Swallowing him whole, until there’s nothing but blackness and the sharp fear that comes with it.

Lucette wraps her hands around each other, willing herself to not reach out. She’s never seen the two personalities swap so willingly, so peacefully, and the oddity makes her nervous.

Soon, but not soon enough, the shadows slink back to reveal a familiar knight, clad in white and silver.

Fritz falls sideways onto Lucette, eyes unfocused. Lucette’s arms immediately fly out, catching the man and pulling him to her chest.

A shaky exhale leaves Lucette, wrapping her arms around Fritz in a loose hug. Her body moves with every shift as he wakes, every rise and fall of his chest.

So relieved to see his face once more, that Lucette doesn’t register the tears streaming down her face.

Finally, Fritz was back with her. Fritz. Her Fritz.

Even now, it was still this image of Fritz that represented to her all the happier times, all the better things in life the world had to offer.

Hugging him tighter, Lucette buries her face into his hair. “Fritz.” She murmurs, still in disbelief that he’d finally returned.

“Princess…?” Fritz calls groggily, bringing a hand to his face. Reluctantly, Lucette lets go of him just enough so he can sit up.

Fritz bends forward, pressing the heel of his palm to his scrunched forehead. Memories reorganising, shuffling in his mind. Dazed, he stares at the unfamiliar flowers beneath him, the salty drips of tears plopping onto him.

He immediately looks up, one hand reaching out to wipe away the tears rolling down Lucette’s cheeks. Just as quickly, he pulls back, uncertain.

“Princess! Did I - Did he hurt you?” Fritz asks, frantic. His hand is still hovering mid air as he looks over her frame, trying to spot any external explanations.

“No, I -.” Lucette hiccups, smiling. She takes hold of his hand, bringing it to her face. Leaning into the longed for warmth of his palm, Lucette sighs. “I’m just glad to see you again.”

For a second, Fritz stops moving. Then he turns a brilliant shade of red, that even beneath the dark sky is visible.

“Pr-Princess.” Fritz stutters, eyes blown wide. Short circuited, Fritz settles for a disbelieving “You’re smiling.”.

Finally, his hand on her cheek moves, gently pressing into the curve of her smile that his own face begins to mirror.

“Because you’re here, Fritz.” Before she can stop herself, Lucette throws her arms around him in a hug. Fritz lets out a surprised gasp, but his arms are instantly around her waist. “Because you’re finally back.”

It takes a moment for Fritz to lax into the hug, to push his face into the crook of Lucette’s neck and smile. “I am, princess. I am.”

Within his gentle embrace, Lucette forgets what she’s supposed to fear, what she’s supposed to be on guard against.

Because even now, Lucette cannot understand what it is that can possibly twist Fritz to feel so cruel.

After a while, Fritz removes himself from Lucette. He looks away, almost unsure about their position against one another.

“I...I’m not sure as to what’s happening, but I don’t think it’s safe to stay here, in the open field.” He frowns, arms loosening around her waist. “We should find shelter.”

There’s hardly any danger staying here, considering the lack of animals Lucette has seen. But Fritz doesn’t know that, and the worried lines between his brow inclines Lucette to agree.

The duo help each other stand, keeping hold on one another. Yet the moment both are on their feet, Fritz keeps a distance, as if remembering his status, where his place beside Lucette lies.

He holds out an elbow, stiff as always with the formalities of a proper knight, and smiles kindly at Lucette.

“I’ll trust you to lead the way, then.”

Lucette nods, sliding her hand into the crook of Fritz’s elbow.

She doesn’t miss how he carefully edges away when she tries to lean against him.

During their walk back, Lucette fills Fritz in about the happenings. His steps never falter throughout, his unmoving posture a comforting sign of his unjudging support.

Carefully, Lucette phrases around the harder moments, the softer ones, and all those in between that made her so unafraid of the one he tried so hard to protect her from.

He remains silent, allowing Lucette to finish before speaking up once more.

“...So he didn’t hurt you?” Is the first thing Fritz says, doubting. Lucette gazes up at Fritz, knowing him well enough that he wouldn’t doubt her.

So who was it that he was doubting?

“Quite the opposite.” Lucette answers.

Fritz looks away, staring forward once more. An indecipherable expression spreads itself over his features. “I see.”

Then his gentle smile is aimed at Lucette once more. “I’m glad. That you were unharmed, despite the circumstances.”

Although his words are sincere, his eyes belie a deeper emotion, a deeper significance behind his words.

A deeper sort of pain, of meaning unspoken and afraid to be spoken of.

“I couldn’t have been.” Lucette says, wanting so badly to tell Fritz of Varg, of the kindness of the wolf, of the endearing way he’d thought of Fritz.

But the sudden flash of sadness across Fritz’s face silences her, surprises her.

“I see.” He repeats, as if unsure of what else to say. As if he wants to say more, but simply doesn’t trust himself to translate it into words.

Their walk back is filled with silence as it always is, but this time, Lucette finds herself drowning in it.

The fright brought about by the darkness of the forest only sinks the silence deeper, reigniting the unsettled sparks in Lucette.

Her grip on Fritz tightens. He doesn’t react, and Lucette isn’t sure whether it’s because he hasn’t noticed, or is choosing not to.

She isn’t sure which option hurts less, either.

Eventually, the trying silence is lifted as they reach the temporary shelter.

Fritz follows Lucette to the concave trunk, looking up to admire the tree. Dutifully, he allows Lucette to settle down first.

Oddly enough, even after Lucette is comfortable and looking at him with expectancy, he remains standing. Fritz kneels on one knee before her, hesitating for a moment before grabbing the open flaps of the cloak, wrapping it in overlap around her form.

“You can sleep first, princess. I’ll take a quick walk to make sure nothing followed us.”

“I don’t think there’ll be a need. We’ve been fine these past few nights.” Lucette objects, one hand shooting out to hold onto Fritz’s front.

With the way he was acting, she felt almost scared to let him wander around the dark alone.

Who knows where he would go, what he would encounter?

“You don’t even know your way around here.” She tries, but Fritz just shakes his head.

“I might.” He absentmindedly says. Then he snaps back into focus, pressing his lips together. “I mean, i’ll be fine if I stay around here.”

There’s something in the way he says it so distractedly that tugs at Lucette.

“Fritz.” Lucette says. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

Fritz still wears his ever present smile, but tonight it feels more tired, more strained.

“Nothing that you should trouble yourself over, princess.” His voice is gentle as always, but this time instead of comfort, it brings hurt.

Before Lucette can say anything more, Fritz pries her hand from his shirt, and stands.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Even with all his formalities, Fritz was always there for her. Even when he didn’t know how to properly express his care, he would remain steadfastly nearby, so much as that his presence became a symbol of stability to Lucette.

Yet despite the kind voice she so craves finally speaking to her, the familiar figure so close to her, Lucette cannot help but feel agonisingly lonely.

“Fritz.”

The man in question tilts his head. “Princess?”

Caught in the moonlight, his smile softens just the slightest, turns into something lighter, harder to grasp.

“Come back soon.”

Caught in Lucette’s firm gaze, Fritz’s smile sharpens, solidifies into something more confident, more belonging.

“I will.”

Watching Fritz’s retreating back, Lucette’s hands tighten on the cloak.

Fritz never lies, not to her.

But he hides his truth in the dark night, quietly pulling a curtain of stars and clouds to distract.

It’s only now that Lucette notices his incomplete truths, when Fritz is unable to steal away and sidestep it with practiced ease.

It’s a kind of truth that dampens the light in his eyes, that tears at the corners of his fragile smile.

It’s a kind of truth that can hurt both the one telling and the one told.

Lucette closes her eyes, steeling her determination.

But no matter what truth it was, there is only one of Fritz’s that she would never doubt, never allow him to paint in a lie - his promise to always return to her side.

With that in mind, Lucette breathes out slowly, and lets sleep overtake her.

The forest is still a frightful place to be in at night all alone, without even the company of crickets.

But in the silence, Lucette finds peace.

After all, Fritz would be there to greet her in the morning.


	5. imbalance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which two figures overlap.
> 
> (but were they ever separate?)

As usual, the spot beside Lucette is cold when she wakes.

Although unlike Varg, Fritz remains within sight and calling distance, even if he wasn’t currently facing her.

Fritz’s sword is unsheathed, held pointed towards the East. Even with his back angled to block Lucette’s line of sight, every whistle of the sword gives his actions away.

Normally, Fritz would never be caught dead practicing the sword around Lucette. It wasn’t a pleasant sight she would want to spectate, Fritz had stammered quite terribly when she’d asked once.

“Besides, i’ll make you feel uncomfortable.” He’d said, eyes shifting towards the floor.

Watching him now, Lucette marvels at the manner his sword cuts through the air, sharp and purposeful. There’s no wasted movements, no fancy jabs or tricks.

Just simple, basic swordplay designed to be effective and swift.

Fritz himself reflects his swordplay, movements slight and flexible. He barely makes any noise, not even when he steps.

Air hisses between his teeth when he sucks in a quick inhale, drawing Lucette to his side profile. Focus needle point sharp, undisturbed by his unknown surroundings. It’s a much, much more stoic expression than she’s used to, an intensity normally hidden possessing his golden eyes, staring down his invisible enemy.

So unusual this scene is that Lucette finds herself captivated, unwillingly to break the silent spell his swordplay has woven.

In this moment, Fritz seems to bear a thousand burdens on his shoulders, yet none at all.

Fritz is midway through a gliding cut when he spies a rousing Lucette out of the corner of his eye.

Before his cut fully lands, he changes the trajectory of his sword, sliding it into the sheath instead. The loud click as the sword returns to its place breaks the atmosphere instantly.

“Good morning, princess.” He says, pushing his sword to his hip, like he regretted letting her see him wield it. “Did you sleep well?”

His greeting is the first sense of normalcy Lucette has encountered since entering the forest. It prompts her to instinctively relax, unconsciously letting out a slight yawn.

“Somewhat.” Lucette replies. “Did you sleep at all?”

Under the light of day, Fritz appears to have returned to his normal preppy self. The tension has left his shoulders, eased out of his eyes.

“I did.” Fritz says, putting a hand to his shoulder and cracking it. “I actually just woke up.”

Realising that he likely hadn’t eaten since last afternoon, Lucette shuffles over to the hastily made cloth wrapping and takes two peaches out. Standing, she makes her way to Fritz to hand him one.

Fritz takes it gratefully, staring at the fruit with an odd look on his face. “So there is a peach tree somewhere around here.”

“You know of it?” Lucette asks. She holds the fruit so hard it might bruise beneath her fingers.

Fritz shakes his head slowly. “I….Maybe.” Then he bites into the fruit, and Lucette loses yet another chance to press him for answers.

They finish eating in silence, piling the seeds in a corner with the rest.

“Shall I show you around now? We could visit the peach tree first.” Lucette says. It’d be useful for Fritz to have a gauge of the places they’d been, plus the destination might trigger some motivation for him to open up.

“That would be very helpful, princess.” Fritz says. His hand brushes against the hilt of his sword, as if double checking for it, before he offers her his elbow once more. “I’ll be troubling you.”

The way he so readily offers her his arm warms Lucette, although it does nothing to stifle the disappointment rising from his unoffered hand.

The late morning sun beats down on the two as they walk. The worst of the heat is avoided by the canopy, which Lucette is glad for. Not just because it keeps the forest floor nice and cool, but also because Fritz has never been good with heat.

Thinking about it, Fritz has never been good with a lot of things. Despite how hard he tried to present an immaculate self to Lucette in the beginning of his service, he’s never been able to deny certain facts. That Lucette herself would point out.

Like how he’s terrible at rhymes, or how the ribbons he ties always end up upside down, somehow. Lucette is convinced the second one was almost a talent.

It was rather endearing, the way he would at first try to hide those flaws. How he’d try to make himself look extra dependable, if only so she’d know there was someone looking out for her at any given moment of her life.

But it had worked. Seeing someone try so hard for her sake had touched Lucette, dented her polished veneer of impractical denial.

That’s why even when she had denied his friendship, she never had even thought of dismissing him as her personal knight.

Eventually as the years passed and they grew more comfortable with each other, Fritz learnt to relax in her presence, learnt to send her those small genuine smiles behind her back that would only grow larger when she would turn to look at him.

It was one of the things that had endeared him to her, Lucette supposes.

How contradictory it was, that it was Fritz’s lack of conscious effort which had earned her trust, and now it was his constant attention that she craves.

Lucette steals a look of Fritz, an odd emotion welling in her at the stern expression drawn on his face.

The emotion is foreign, yet so painfully familiar. It’s the one he used to wear, back when he hid how he couldn’t speak with a noble’s eloquence, or tie a ribbon.

It paints his eyes an uneasy hue, too earnest to be taken lightly, yet too guarded to be taken as it was.

Even still, Lucette wants to trust Fritz. She wants to trust the man she’s loved since before she knew what it meant to love, trust him as he’s always wanted her to.

It doesn’t tone down the unsettlement that has wrapped itself around her heart, but it does give her the courage to seek the root of it and detach it.

“Princess?” Fritz’s voice grounds her from her spiralling thoughts, as it always has.

“Yes?” She answers, looking up at him fully.

“You looked overwhelmed. Are you alright?” Fritz stops walking, in order to properly face Lucette. Worry is scrawled all over his features, the sight making Lucette’s heart melt. “Shall we take a break?”

“No, it’s fine.” Lucette says, gently tugging at Fritz’s arm to prompt him to begin walking again. With some reluctance, he does. “I was just...thinking about things.”

Leaves crunch beneath their feet. Lucette’s docile expression must convince Fritz of something, since his grip over his sword loosens.

“I know it must be hard, suddenly having to readjust to such a...drastic change in environment.” Fritz says with a soft laugh. “If anything is troubling you, you can always confide in me.”

He pauses, almost debating whether to continue. But he does, very quietly so.

“Even if the thing that troubles you is me.”

At that, Lucette spins to face Fritz. His lips are turned in a stony frown, eyes clouded over with something akin to turbulent resignation.

He isn’t looking at Lucette, eyes steadfastly set on the road forward. His lower lip trembles, and Lucette aches to kiss it still.

Questions she’s kept in her since their entry into the forest threaten to spill gracelessly out of her, but she quietens them. This was not the time.

Not when Fritz seemed like he’d break apart at even the slightest hint of doubt from her.

“I was just thinking about the way you still can’t tie a proper bow for my gown.” Lucette says, willing her voice to come out light, airy, as if nothing in the world could weigh her down.

Not Fritz, at least.

When she says so, Fritz’s expression shifts quite peculiarly. His lips split apart, a soundless questioning gasp escaping. The previous agony is morphs into insulted confusion, then sheepish remembrance.

“I’ve gotten better!” He weakly argues. “I’ve been practicing.”

His red-faced embarrassment is quite new to look at, and a welcome change from the brooding one which had scared Lucette, even though she wasn’t sure what there was to be afraid of.

“Oh?” Lucette says, raising a brow. She unravels the ribbon around her collar, smoothing it out. Fritz’s eyes grow wide at the implication, but he makes no move to back out from her challenge.

“Show me, then. No cheating by flipping it.” Lucette says, handing the ribbon over.

Fritz slowly accepts the ribbon, looking at it with fierce determination. “I’ll do my best.”

While Fritz busies himself with the ribbon for the next length of the journey, Lucette is the one ensuring both their safety.

Fritz undoes the bow again. And again, and again, and again.

It was amazing, all the different shapes a ribbon could take that wasn’t an upright bow. In fact, it was rather stunning.

Fritz had always been a handsy person, picking up crafts and swordplay faster than the average person. Yet for some odd reason, cloth and ribbons remained his Achilles heel.

Lucette used to tell Fritz not to mind, since she didn’t; her dresses were pretty as is, and if they really required a bow or some other shape formed from loose ends of a cloth, then the dressmakers could always sew something premade on.

But Fritz had insisted. “I don’t want to be the one limiting your freedom of choice, princess.” He had said, as he struggled to tie a bow on the back of her dress. “And besides, I think you look lovelier without the stiffness of a dress completely tailored by someone else.”

Back then, Lucette had not told him that she hadn’t cared, when he so clearly did. She had simply sighed, and told him to call a maid in.

However, simply ringing a bell for another servant’s help would not be possible right now. Or necessary, when there wasn’t an evening dinner to be held anytime soon.

It was just them, and a poor, manhandled ribbon.

With each failure, the hapless look in Fritz’s eye is beginning to grow alarming. Finally, he produces a rather pretty bow, but is, again, upside down.

Lucette reaches out, gently patting the puffy bow. Fritz looks at it despondently, as if it had single handedly caused the downfall of the country.

“It’s very cute.” Lucette says.

“But if it were around your neck, it wouldn’t look good at all.” Fritz says dejectedly. “It wouldn’t sit right.”

“Still.” Lucette insists.

Before she can stop him, Fritz unravels the bow. His expression only drops further when he sees all the creases the silk now bears, due to the countless attempts of ribbon tying.

“I’m sorry, princess.”

“Don’t be.” Lucette takes the ribbon, stroking it. She quickly reties it around her neck, patting it down. The new creases makes it feel older, more worn.

Less perfect.

“I like it better this way. It’s proof you tried your best for me.” Lucette says, squeezing Fritz’s arm. “Thank you.”

Fritz blinks, Lucette’s words clearing the dejectedness from his face. Instead, an openly admiring and loving smile replaces it.

“...No, thank _you_.” Fritz says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It isn’t easy to take something done badly as a positive, you know.”

Lucette looks at Fritz, not really understanding. “But you did it for me, did you not? So shouldn’t I have the last say as to whether it was a good or bad thing?”

Fritz laughs a little. “I suppose. Your method of thought is one of the things I like best about you, princess.”

Lucette feels the tips of her ears grow warm. Only Fritz thought of it that way. Everyone else would talk about how pessimistic she was, how awful that she couldn’t even please her own family.

But why it had been her obligation to twist the truth, to say half-lies, Lucette had never been explained to and as such, never understood.

Until now, that is.

Fritz’s bright smile has returned to its usual spot, the twinkle in his eye shining again.

For that alone, Lucette would never mind how many diverting half-lies she’d have to tell.

Taking a proper look around her, Lucette realises that their little routine has significantly helped pass most of the journey in self-made ruckus. In no time at all, they find themselves nearing the peach tree.

“This is where we plucked the fruits.” Lucette says, stopping before the tree. It wasn’t as pretty as the fruit trees Lucette had grown accustomed to in her garden, but plenty robust for a wild tree in the middle of an enchanted forest.

Fritz cranes his neck to look at the top of the tree, as if searching for something recognisable. He steps closer, putting a hand on the trunk of the tree. Smoothing a hand over the bark, the smile on his face softens.

“You’ve grown quite a bit since I last saw you, huh?” He murmurs, gazing at the tree. Nostalgic fondness etches itself into his smile and words.

Lucette quietly stands beside Fritz, looking at him. She’s never seen him look so sentimental before.

“So you’ve been here before?” Lucette asks, partially hoping to finally get some answers, partially aching to know what it was that could make Fritz look so melancholic.

“Yes.” Fritz tilts his head to one side. “I played here when I was younger.”

He looks up into the clear sky that appears in patches through the overlapping layers of leaves of the tree, the hanging fruit.

“I thought I was mistaken, since….Well. It may sound silly, but it felt like the forest was rejecting me, when I first woke up here. So I thought that perhaps I was mistaken.”

The forest must have sensed the Fairy Tale curse within him, Lucette realises.

But to think that Fritz knew this place from his childhood. To say that it came as a surprise was weak at best. Lucette had thought that a place that Varg had known and Fritz had spent so much time at, would have been a place he’d encountered when he was much older.

After all, it didn’t seem like the forest held many good experiences for Fritz, if Varg were to know about it.

“But this tree...I definitely wouldn’t mistake it for any other.” Fritz smiles. “I used to climb it when I was younger. It used to feel so much taller than it does now.”

“That might have to do with your current height.” Lucette says, gazing at Fritz.

Fritz laughs, scratching the back of his neck. “You’re probably right. The years flew by so quickly.”

“How old were you, when you last came here?” Lucette asks.

“Hmm, hard to say. Maybe when I was around twelve?” Fritz shakes his head. “It’s been so long.”

He hesitates once more, as if thinking if he should continue. But he drops the subject, choosing to stare forlornly at the sky instead.

“Did you play here often?” Lucette continues asking. She knows she should stop, that she shouldn’t dredge up possibly bad memories of Fritz’s, unasked.

But she also so badly wants to know what Fritz has been keeping from her all this time, and what is it in this forest that could have created Varg.

Fortunately, Fritz doesn’t look too disturbed to answer her. “I did. When I was younger, because I used to stay at home all the time, I didn’t have any friends my age. So when I grew a little older, i’d come here to play.”

Funny, Lucette had never pegged Fritz to be a homebody.

“I thought you’d have been the type of child to play outside all day.” Lucette voices out.

At that, Fritz’s smile flickers bittersweet. “Is that so?”

The expression catches Lucette off-guard. “...I apologise. It seems like i’ve overstepped my boundaries.”

Her apology drags Fritz back to the present. He frantically shakes his head, putting a hand out.

“Oh, no. Not at all, princess!” Fritz says hurriedly. “I was just caught up with a memory.”

He smiles apologetically, taking a few quick steps away from the tree, as if physically backing away from his past.

“...If it was something that troubled you, you can confide in me.” Lucette says. Her face burns at how cheesy it was to be repeating Fritz’s own advice back at him.

Fritz’s eyes grow large, then he’s biting on his inner cheek, clearly suppressing a beaming smile. “Thank you, princess. But it’s not something I want to trouble you with.”

The finality in Fritz’s tone convinces Lucette to drop the topic.

As she begins leading him to the next location, she can’t help but wonder why Fritz speaks of his problems as if he isn’t allowed to have them, when he was always so kind and supportive with hers.

The more she thinks about the contradiction, the heavier and more insistent the weight in her middle gets.

Unable to hold back any longer, the words spill from Lucette.

“Do not talk down about yourself or your problems.” Her next step is especially hard. The soft leaf under her foot doesn’t provide relief from the bubbling anger in her. “You never allowed me to, about my problems, so you shouldn’t either. It doesn’t matter if you don’t wish to confide in me, just...don’t speak so flippantly about something that clearly caused you pain.”

Lucette’s grip on Fritz’s arm is almost vice-like. Her anger stifles her voice, cracks it at its end. She’s never felt this upset on anyone’s behalf before. But hearing and seeing Fritz speak so airily about his hurt angers Lucette. Saddens her.

It was almost as if Fritz was trying to cheapen his own pain.

And seeing Fritz do that hurt her unimaginably, for some odd reason.

In the face of Lucette’s outburst, Fritz grows unusually quiet.

“You’ve gotten much more expressive, princess.” He eventually says.

So caught up in her anger, it takes Lucette a while to detect an odd note to Fritz’s voice that she’s never heard before.

“Have I?” Lucette says, an uncertain frown pulling at the corners of her lips.

“You have. You’ve started to look much more cheerful too.”

Fritz’s expression glosses over. It’s a look Lucette has never seen on him before. As if every emotion he’s ever felt were forcing their way to the surface, yet at the same time all clamped down, rejected.

Lucette feels her heart driving a tempo too fast for her liking at the look. A vigour alike when Fritz practices his sword glints in his eyes. Focused and alive, pinning her down with an intensity that makes her breath catch in her throat.

“Did he remember the tree?” Fritz suddenly says. He doesn’t elaborate on who he’s speaking of, but it’s not hard to guess who he’s referring to.

Something swells in Lucette, urges her not to tell. Not to share how Varg’s eyes had softened at the sight of the peach tree, at the sight of Lucette, too.

She thinks something in Fritz might give way then and there if she did.

But held fast under his gaze, Lucette cannot lie. Cannot bring herself to. “He did.”

Her voice comes out strong, almost challenging, like she swiftly structures it to be. She will not allow herself to be intimidated by Fritz. She will not allow him to hurt her, not when he so clearly does not mean to.

“And he brought you there.”

“Yes.”

When she answers, Fritz deflates. His expression is held taut and neutral, like piano wire pulled tight enough to cut.

“Fritz.” Lucette calls, soft.

She puts her other hand on his arm as well, stilling him.

It doesn’t seem like a good idea, to interrupt his turbulent thoughts. Yet Lucette feels she must.

For if she didn’t, he might just collapse under the weight of them.

“You’re the one here with me, now. Isn’t that enough?”

Fritz looks down at Lucette. For a moment, she catches helpless bitterness in the soft glow of his eyes.

Then he smiles, and they disappear, like a magic trick he’s perfected.

The smile he offers is tiny and fragile, but genuine nonetheless. None of his smiles he’s ever given Lucette has been anything else.

Silence dominates the conversation. The duo remain staring straight at one another, neither willing to bring up the unanswered question, the painful way Fritz had inhaled when Lucette had looked so quietly at peace at the mention of Varg.

Then, the distant crash of water overtakes the quiet, destroys it.

“Oh.” Lucette breathes. “We were nearly there.”

Pulling a startled Fritz along, Lucette walks on almost mechanically towards their original destination. A lump sticks itself in her throat, restricting it. She doesn’t know what else to do, in this situation. So she does what she can.

Eventually, both find themselves at the edge of the waterfall.

“I found this place.” Lucette blurts out. She doesn’t know why. “I thought I heard water. And I did.”

She turns to face Fritz, who gazes at the waterfall silently. She tugs on his arm, making him face her. The new sight has taken away his tension, the eagerness in his eyes to flee.

“Do you remember it?” Lucette asks, because she so badly wants him to, if only to crack the emptiness in his face.

Fritz blinks slowly, realising the implications of the question. He lets out a gentle sigh, and brushes over Lucette’s fingers with his other hand. The sadness hasn’t completely lifted from his features, but he determinedly buries it away, in lieu of a wider smile.

“I do. I used to visit here, too.”

They settle somewhere near the border of the pond, yet far away enough that the ground is dry.

Sitting down, Fritz seems to ground himself better. Remind himself where he is, and who’s beside him.

The previous conversation is left behind, another topic to be brushed aside. For once, Lucette doesn’t mind not having the answers to everything.

Not if it meant hurting Fritz anymore than it looked like he was already.

They sit in the quiet, enjoying the rough sound of the water, the wind rustling the leaves.

As Lucette thought, having white noise in the background was a point of comfort after all.

“You prefer this place compared to the shelter, don’t you, princess?” Fritz suddenly says, as if reading her mind. His voice is tuned low, trying not to disrupt the natural sounds that surrounds them.

“How did you know?” Lucette questions, blinking. She hadn’t spoken aloud, had she?

Fritz smiles. This time, it’s a knowing, gentle grin, one that she’s familiarised herself with for three years. “Your body language is more comfortable. At ease.”

Lucette feels the temperature of her cheeks rising. She doesn’t need to be told to know that this isn’t common knowledge, isn’t something people can so easily pick up on.

She wonders how long Fritz has been watching her, to be able to pick up even her slightest changes.

How he feels, now that Lucette has changed so much without him being there to witness it.

“The forest is too quiet for me.” Lucette says, lacing her fingers beneath the cloak. “It feels weird, not having any sounds surrounding us in a place like this.”

Fritz hums in understanding. “I get it. Though to be honest, I prefer the quietness of the forest.” He admits. “That was a main part of why I came here to play so much.”

“Really?” Lucette looks at Fritz in wonderment.

“You’ve seen how close my house is to the town centre, right? It’s a place that never sleeps.” Fritz explains. “No matter how late it got, there was always something making noise outside. Especially during the Great War.”

Fritz shifts. “My mother never slept well during the night, either. She’d call out for my father, but he wouldn’t be there. I don’t want to say it was either of their faults, but moments of peace were rare for me. So the forest became my escape. A place I could go and avoid the world for a while.”

Fritz is smiling as he retells the tale, but there’s a sense of soreness in his words, of exhaustion.

That makes him look far older than he really is, far more unforgiving than Lucette knows he is.

That makes his amber eyes flash, gleaming with bitterness even as they’re half-lidded.

Fritz shuts his eyes, breathing in. His chest stops, then rises as he breathes out.

“I’m sorry. I must have scared you just now.” Fritz continues softly. This time, when he looks Lucette in the eye, his gaze is stern, but heartwarmingly familiar.

“I haven’t been feeling right for a while now. I took it out on you. That wasn’t right of me.”

Lucette doesn’t know how to answer. Nothing she can think of sounds like the right answer to her. Every one she can think of is too convoluted, too patronising.

So she reminds silent, pressing her shoulder to Fritz’s instead. This time, Fritz doesn’t move away. If anything, he appears to lax further.

“It’s alright. Thank you for telling me. And for apologising.” Lucette eventually decides on. It isn’t easy to bare one’s heart to anyone or to own up to a fault, she should know.

Still, she can’t shake off the nagging feeling that there’s more to Fritz’s story. That there’s more behind the wariness and anger with which he’d looked at her when she mentioned Varg, when she looked so at ease with him.

It’d been the same, Lucette thinks, when they were in his home. When she’d questioned about Alcaster, about his family and past.

Almost as if he had something he was ashamed of, something he wanted so badly never to see the light of day.

Lucette wonders how it is that it’s only now that she sees the thorny exterior Fritz had built up around his heart.

Why it is that it’s only now that Fritz has allowed her to see it.

Eventually, the sun makes its way slowly down the sky. The waterfall catches the dying light, reflecting it as puddles of sun at Lucette and Fritz’s feet.

Dusk dyes the world around them a misty purple-orange, as they make a move to leave.

“By the way.” Lucette says, dusting her dress. “Varg didn’t seem to know about this place.”

“Is that so.”

In that moment, an instant of relief cuts across Fritz’s features.

 

* * *

 

On their way back, Fritz steadily gathers dry wood.

When Lucette had asked why, Fritz had said, “To keep us warm,” as if it was the most obvious fact in the world.

Lucette had to bite down on her tongue to stop herself from talking about how they could have just slept snuggled next to each other like Varg had with her.

So Lucette had tried to distract herself with helping out, but Fritz kindly declined.

“It’s getting dark.” Fritz says, looking towards the already dark sky. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Then at least let me hold onto the sticks you’ve found.” Lucette argues. He couldn’t expect her to just stand by while he shouldered all the work.

Sensing that Lucette isn’t about to give up anytime soon, Fritz chuckles.

“If you’d be so kind to.” Fritz says, gently passing the pile to Lucette.

She easily accepts. The sticks aren’t as heavy to hold as they are cumbersome.

Impressed, Lucette watches as Fritz collects a new pile of wood in his arms as quickly as he’d given his previous pile to her. He hasn’t made a mistake of bending over to grasp empty air yet, and the times when he does toss a something aside, it’s a newly broken branch deemed too wet for a campfire.

“How do you see so well in the dark?” Lucette asks.

“From habituating myself to it.” Fritz replies, easily picking up another dry stick. “While training as a knight, we had to do night exercises, plus the required night patrols.”

“Time and perseverance, then.” Lucette says.

“Yes. Well -.” Fritz pauses, then sheepishly glances at Lucette. He closes his mouth, shutting down his half-sentence.

Suddenly, his focus is zeroed in on Lucette. It’s a careful, steady gaze that prompts her heart to thump very unhealthily at the attention.

Lucette halts in her steps. Fritz doesn’t move.

“Is something the matter?” She asks.

Then he reaches over, and Lucette reflexively squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t know what she expected, but a casual touch on her head is certainly not it.

When she opens her eyes, she sees a withered leaf being brandished before her eyes, by a smiling Fritz.

“It must have gotten caught somehow.”

Lucette blinks. The leaf is barely any bigger than her thumb nail.

“I don’t think that any amount of training could have allowed you to do that.” Lucette immediately says.

Fritz laughs, embarrassed, letting go of the leaf.

“As I was going to say - my eyesight has always been better than average. So that probably plays a part, too.”

“It must be very useful.” Lucette says.

“As a knight, yes.” Fritz agrees. He shifts the wood in his arms.

A pang of curiousity strikes Lucette. As important as she was as a crown princess, surely Fritz’s talents could have served him much better if he’d remained as part of the vanguard. No doubt he’d climb the ranks in an instant, perhaps even be serving as his father’s right hand man by now.

His current skill set and level certainly would bestow him that honour if he so wished for it.

But then again, Fritz was never the type to regard things like promotions or ranks with much importance. He much preferred training the rookies, or perfecting even the most basic of swings.

“What about personally?” Lucette asks.

Fritz tilts his head, thinking. “I don’t think it’s made much of a difference. Although it has helped me figure out where you might have hidden yourself away more than once.”

Lucette thinks of the daily cleaning her room had to endure, the places she would try to hide herself away at before she would overhear any gossip, or god forbid, be forced to entertain her step-siblings.

Yet no matter how fast she would run, or how well she personally thought she’d hidden away, Fritz would always find her mere minutes later, out of breath, that silly smile stuck to his face.

Although, he would never give her away. If anything, he simply kept watch for anyone who might find her next in order to divert their search.

Sometimes he’d try to coax her out with promises of custard danishes. That often failed, unless Lucette was feeling in a particular mood. But most times he left her be, knowing that she didn’t want to be disturbed, now that her private sanctuary was taken from her.

He would just stand close by, offering his silence and company, which Lucette could see now, on hindsight, how much she appreciated.

Her favourite spot to hide away had been the garden labyrinth. Once her mother had passed, what once used to be a majestic, time-extensive hedge maze had fallen into disrepair. Her father saw no worth in maintaining it, not when funds were stretched tight enough from rebuilding Angielle.

So Lucette would find her feet leading her there everyday at noon, slipping through the overgrown hedges, between lush leaves and stubby stems. It didn’t use to be a complicated maze, but more dead ends were implemented by the ever growing plants after years of ill maintenance.

More often than not, Lucette would find herself sitting at one of the benches meant for those tired from venturing through the maze and simply gaze at the sky, wondering if anyone would ever find her again.

And then Fritz would pop up, covered in leaves with tides of relief rolling off his form.

It happened so often that it started being a mundane expectancy, and stopped being a surprise.

As months turned to years, she also stopped wondering if she’d remain lost to the world forever, too.

“Yes, it has.” Lucette says, reminiscing.

Seeing the content look on her face, Fritz’s smile wavers. Like there’s something he doesn’t want to let himself believe, something he doesn’t want to let himself _want._

“Besides, all the better to see you with, right?”

Hearing the soft murmur, Lucette hums questioningly. But Fritz just shakes his head, plastering back on his usual smile.

“Just talking to myself.”

Soon, they reach the concave trunk, arms full of dried sticks.

Fritz carefully lowers his pile a short distance away from their sleeping area, and Lucette follows suit.

Rolling up his sleeves, Fritz takes a seat on the ground. Obviously, he was going to try and start a fire. How, without flint or any other incendiary device gathered, Lucette had to idea.

She sits beside Fritz, watching him arrange a few stones founds nearby in a circle, then riffle through the piles of sticks.

“What are you looking for?” Lucette asks.

“Thinner, drier sticks.” Fritz replies, gathering them in a pile.

Once satisfied with the size, he reaches for his back pocket, taking out a piece of flint. “Glad I always keep this on me."

Unclasping the metal buckle fastening his left aiguillette, Fritz begins striking it against the flint.

Alarmed, Lucette immediately grabs his upper arm, stopping him.

“Is it ok to damage your clasp like that?” Lucette asks, deeply concerned.

She knows how highly Fritz upholds the importance of a uniform and it’s subsequent maintenance. Taking care of oneself was a huge part of ensuring that one was fit enough to take care of their charge, as Fritz would say.

Fritz smiles at Lucette, fondness evident. “It’s fine. We’re in an emergency, anyway. My uniform is of little importance, compared to keeping warm through the night.”

Lucette loosens her grip with some reluctance. “If you say so.”

For a while, Lucette just watches Fritz attempt to start the fire. Some sparks can be seen to be generated, but none is strong enough to light their makeshift tinder on fire.

Even with Fritz’s endurance, Lucette could tell that he was slowly losing strength from the continuous striking.

During a certain precarious strike, where Fritz’s hand slips and nearly ended up scratching his other hand from the momentum, Lucette puts her hand over his.

“I can try.” Lucette says, firmly.

Fritz looks at her, his breath coming quick from exertion. He considers the notion, before giving in.

“Just be careful.” Fritz says, handing her the flint and clasp. “It’s probably harder than it needs to be since we aren’t using the right materials. Usually steel is used, but I think my sword would be more likely to break the flint than start the fire.”

Lucette nods. Carefully, she strikes once, cringing at the loud scraping noise. The materials were a lot more stubborn to work with than she’d thought.

“Princess, if I may give some pointers?” Fritz asks, as she prepares to give a second try.

“Please.” Lucette implores.

Slowly rising, Fritz moves behind Lucette. His arms come around her, hands gently taking her own. Her back fits nicely against Fritz’s chest, his hands just right over hers.

Lucette feels her dizzying bout of warmth rush to her face and ears, heart racing as fast as a rabbit.

Suddenly, starting a fire seems like the worse thing Lucette could attempt to do right now.

“You should angle the clasp more, and move faster.” Fritz says. His voice is the same as its always been, but coming from directly beside Lucette’s ear, it sounds lower, more hypnotic. His breath caresses her ear, and Lucette has to suppress a shiver. “That way, there’ll be a higher chance of enough friction creating a spark.”

Lucette nods, unable to speak. She tries to move her hands to try out what he’s just advised, but finds her mind not cooperating, too focused on the toned chest her back is against, the slightest brush of Fritz’s cheek against her temple.

“Like this.” Guiding her hands, Fritz motions what he’s just said. The touch is gentle, as if he was handling something more precious than fine porcelain.

For a moment, Lucette thinks that Fritz might never let go, and the notion makes her heart squeeze.

Then he’s moving away, too quickly, too smoothly. It reminds her too painfully of the last day she’d seen him, the way he had let go of her, just as she was reaching back to him.

Lucette locks her jaw, and focuses on the flint once more.

“Like this?” Lucette repeats, this time more forcefully in tone and in action, expelling every one of her frustrations on the metal and rock.

People, men, Fritz and Varg, were all so infuriatingly complicated.

As if awakening to her anger, a large spark cracks to life, lighting the tip of a stick on fire.

“Again! Princess, do it again!” Fritz exclaims, hurrying around to gather dry leaves to pile around the tiny flame.

Lucette doesn’t need to be told twice. The second spark comes to life, joining the first in devouring the tinder.

Sitting back on her heels, Lucette watches as the fire grows bigger with laboured breath.

Fritz slowly feeds it more wood, until a sizable campfire is crackling before them. Once deemed the fire fine to tend to itself, he plops down next to Lucette.

“That was amazing, princess.” He grins.

“Thank you.” Lucette numbly replies. The raw pain of her hands sting, but they don’t hurt as bad as the memory of Fritz’s broken voice.

“Princess?” Fritz taps her shoulder. “Do your hands hurt?”

“No.” Lucette shakes her head, handing back the flint and clasp. “I was just admiring the fire.”

Fritz is grinning as he pockets the materials. “It was very well done. On your second try, too.”

The praise lifts Lucette’s spirits a little.

The flames flicker strongly, casting odd shadows around them. Eventually, Lucette allows the warmth and undeniable sounds of life to ease her rattled thoughts.

Fritz looks just as pleased at the creation of the fire. He has one leg half-stretched, the other pulled near his chest, an arm resting on the knee. Lucette hasn’t seen him this relaxed in a while.

Not even back in his own home.

In the forest, surrounded by the dark unknown and basked in the flames of the campfire, does Fritz look truly at peace.

The image mirrors one she knew months before, where Fritz sits on a dirty stone bench, crowded with greenery and the odd bloom, face angled toward the sky, the sun caressing his features.

“Do you miss the palace, Fritz?” Lucette asks.

Dragged into the wild because of her and his counterpart while being forced to relive past memories, Lucette cannot think of why he wouldn’t.

“Not when i’m with you.” Fritz says, gaze still trained on the fire.

He doesn’t even seem to have noticed what he’s said, nor the forlornly devoted way he’d said it.

Lucette curls her toes in her shoes, embarrassed on Fritz’s behalf.

In the sudden silence, Fritz realises with a start exactly what he’d said.

“I-I mean!” Fritz reels back, bending his face forward, holding his neck with a hand. “I’m glad I’m here, so I can stay by your side and protect you.”

“I see.” Lucette mumbles. His words don’t do anything to still her heart. If anything, it makes it faster.

“I mean it, this time.” Fritz says. When Lucette looks up, she finds Fritz gazing right at her.

A look of absolute sincerity writes itself on his features, into the gentle smile carved like a crescent moon.

“That i’ll protect you, and stay by your side no matter what.” Fritz leans closer, and Lucette feels like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I never said I doubted you.” Lucette says, unwillingly to tear her eyes away from Fritz’s.

Fritz’s smile melts emptily.

“You never said you didn’t, either.”

Fritz moves closer to Lucette till their shoulders touch. Lucette has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.

The firelight burns bright against Fritz’s frame, sending his face in shadows that the moonlight can do nothing to reveal. His eyes are glazed, lips parted in a wish left unsaid.

At this position, Fritz looks almost untouchable, almost possessive.

Almost scared of losing Lucette, that she might run off if he took his eyes off of her for even the slightest second.

That she might disappear right before his eyes.

“Fritz.” Lucette murmurs, softly questioning. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

With a single question, Fritz seals his mouth shut and turns it upwards. His smile is gentle, yet pained.

“You wouldn’t want to know, princess.”

He pushes himself away, and it’s then that Lucette notices his tightly fisted hands, the grooves they’ve left in the soft dirt from how hard he’s pressed into it.

Self-control has always been one of Fritz’s strong points. No matter how badly he was hurt in the process. Restraint was never something Fritz has to learn, almost as if he had it ingrained in his very being.

So different he was from Varg, who took what he wanted when he wanted to, and was so needlessly charismatic in the process. Easily sweeping her off her feet, metaphorically and physically.

Yet they were so similar too, in the way they wore confidence like a proud badge, never faltering in their pursuit of their goals; in the way they would only ever shower her with affection during the times she wouldn’t be noticing.

In the way they would never reveal what it was that hurt them, in the fear of hurting Lucette in the process.

And it was so, so tiring, to have to be constantly protected.

“Fritz?” Lucette calls, once more, standing.

This time, she’s the one looming over Fritz, who looks up at her.

“I think you’re fine the way you are. Both the you i’ve seen, and the you I haven’t.” Lucette says.

Fritz smiles, but its a carefully constructed masterpiece.

“Thank you.” He says, surprised yet quiet. Disbelieving.

“And if.” Lucette swallows, wondering why it was so much harder now to talk to Fritz than it ever was with Varg. Wonders if it’s because Fritz had always seemed so much more delicate, so much more likely to fall to pieces when prodded at the wrong areas, at the wrong times.

“If, you ever want to confide in me, you can. Because i’ll definitely hear you out. Definitely.”

Lucette doesn’t know how useful repeated advice is, but she says it out anyway. Just so Fritz would know that she was willing to be there for him, as he has been with her.

Fritz’s smile grows softer, less constructed. It takes on the awning glow of the moon, sad yet peaceful.

“Thank you.” He says again, but it sounds more natural, this time, to Lucette’s ears.

Lucette nods then reaches out a hand to pull him up. Fritz dutifully allows her to, although he looks rather confused as to why.

“It’s getting late. We should sleep.”

“I’d like to stay up a while longer, princess.” Fritz tries to tug his hand away from Lucette, but her grip is firm.

“You can do that in the alcove, too. We can just let the fire burn out.” Lucette says, walking towards the concave.

“But -.” Fritz silences himself at Lucette’s pointed look.

After they’ve settled down in the concave trunk, Lucette lays her head on Fritz’s shoulder.

They were both good at restraining themselves, telling themselves that they didn’t deserve what they wanted or that no one would want them.

But Lucette was growing tired of this old song and dance, of having what she wanted before her yet never able to attain it.

Varg had taken the first step in closing the gap, so now it was her turn to pave the way.

“Goodnight, Fritz.” Lucette murmurs. She doesn’t miss the discrete way he shifts his torso lower, to enable her a more comfortable position against him.

Just like Varg, Fritz was never able to resist her, not when she made it so clear what she wanted. What they both wanted.

“Goodnight, princess.” Fritz replies softly.

He leans against the tree, muscles relaxing. A soft clink of metal tells Lucette that his hand still remains over the hilt of his sword, always ready to protect.

The fire crackles pleasantly, echoing throughout the area. It lulls Lucette to sleep, as does the warmth radiating from Fritz next to her.

Even half-conscious, Lucette doesn’t miss how Fritz quietly kisses the crown of her head when he thinks she’s already fallen asleep, either.


	6. vices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which one lies until they cannot, at least not to the other.
> 
> (but do averting explanations count as honesty?)

To Lucette’s utmost surprise, when she wakes up, she finds her position unchanged.

She’d almost expected Fritz to have disappeared, or be working out by the time she woke up.

Yet she finds herself still leaning against Fritz, his arm pressed next to her own.

“Princess, you’re awake?”

Fritz shifts to take a proper look at her face, though not enough to dislodge her position from his side.

Lucette sleepily blinks, sitting upright. Maybe she was still dreaming.

Then Fritz moves, and the warmth by her side is instantly sapped away. The sudden chill wakes her up almost immediately.

No, not a dream.

“I am.” Lucette answers.

As Lucette undos her hair to tie it up neatly once more, Fritz speaks up again. “Princess, if you don’t mind, I have somewhere in mind i’d like to go today.”

Lucette looks at Fritz, halfway through a braid. “Have you remembered some place here?”

“Somewhat.” Fritz scratches the back of his neck. “I’m not really sure if my memory is accurate in this regard, so this might end up as a fruitless trip.”

“It’s alright.” Lucette replies, tying her end ponytail. She glances at Fritz as she pulls her hair through her hair tie. “I don’t mind.”

Fritz smiles, honest and tender. “Then we can go as soon as you’re ready.”

Lucette takes another moment more to tidy herself up, while Fritz gets to his feet, ready to help her up.

Soon, they’re on their way.

“What did you remember, Fritz?” Lucette asks.

“I can’t quite recall,"  Fritz replies. "It felt more of a dream than an actual memory.”

“Do you know what kind of place it is?” Lucette continues, curious.

“I do. But i’d like to keep it a secret.” Fritz hums, putting a finger to his lips.

The action makes Lucette smile a little. Fritz always did look like he was having the best time in the mornings. Even back in the palace, he’d choose early mornings, preferably before breakfast, to try and sneak Lucette out to town even for an hour.

She had always declined, not seeing the worth in those trips. But the radiant way he would pop up at her door was a pleasant sight to wake up to nonetheless.

Truly, he was someone who belonged to the sun.

Seeing her smile, Fritz’s own softens. “I always knew you’d look good when you smile.”

Lucette brings a hand up to cover her mouth almost unconsciously, although she’s sure he can still see the ends of her smile poking out. Fritz’s words had such a way of making her shy, somehow.

Still, the way he was looking at her felt almost jealous. That he hadn’t been the first to witness this scene, that someone else had inched their way into her heart, someone that wasn’t, yet was, him.

“Only because it’s you saying that.” Lucette says quietly.

This time, it’s Fritz’s turn to turn red.

Lucette’s quiet admission turns the conversation to a standstill. Despite the topic, the silence isn’t an awkward or unpleasant one, just one filled with unsaid words, from two parties too afraid to put them out to the world.

Yet the way Lucette leans against Fritz and the reciprocating manner that Fritz doesn’t move away says it all for the two silent lovers.

With Fritz in such a good mood, and the atmosphere feeling light as a feather, Lucette understands for the first time what story books meant, when they wished for a moment to last forever.

What she wouldn’t give, for the world to go away, for all her responsibilities to simply disappear and be gone, so that all she needed to worry about was Fritz and how to make him smile.

But reality is not so kind. Outside of this forest, there are people waiting for her return, people searching for her. People she would eventually have to return to, even if their intentions were not the best.

Thinking of her mother for the first time in days, Lucette feels her heart hurt with cold. There was no place for her to return to, there.

But what about Fritz?

She remembers holding her breath by the corridor, the cold way Alcaster had spoken of Fritz. Good, kind Fritz, who was just a little too headstrong than his father had seemed to like.

Not even Varg, who had the strength and stubbornness of ten men combined had won the love of his father.

In the end, Alcaster had been a man who had prioritised power and obedience over anything, even his own son.

In the end, Alcaster was the same as her own mother, wasn’t he?

But Fritz….If Fritz still cared for his father then that was an entirely different story.

Yet thinking about it, Fritz hadn’t expressed any worry either. Not even back when he was still in the palace, still vying with Varg for control.

Not him, nor Varg, had cared.

It was as if to them, Alcaster was never a factor in their minds.

The thought chills Lucette, as much as it does pique her curiousity.

“Fritz?” Lucette calls.

“What’s worrying you, princess?” Fritz asks, as naturally as ever.

Before Lucette can ask how he knew, Fritz taps the center of his forehead. “Your brows are furrowed.”

Lucette hesitates. She wanted to know, but she didn’t want to pry.

“Fritz, you don’t have to answer me if this makes you uncomfortable, but should we be more focused on finding a way back? Alcaster...He might be worried about your disappearance.”

Fritz barely flinches at the mention of his father. In fact, he appears nearly unaffected, if not for his averting gaze.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” He eventually settles on. “He isn’t the type to worry.”

The resigned manner of which Fritz speaks, so jarringly different from the previous moment, makes sudden anger and upset well in Lucette.

It floods her senses as she thinks of the impersonal house, the way it felt more like a hotel than a home, the way Fritz never spoke single word outside of work with his father.

The way his demeanor would shift around his father, into less of son and more of soldier than Lucette ever thought was natural.

She doesn’t know if its the stress and memory of her mother, of the cold corridor conversation, or the thought of warm Fritz being cast aside so heartlessly, but her eyes bubble with tears.

“Princess?”

Before she can help it, tears begin streaking down her rosy cheeks.

Fritz is bending over in an instant, loosening his elbow to grip both her hands in his instead. “Princess, what’s wrong?”

“It’s not fair.” Lucette hiccuped, removing a hand to angrily wipe away her tears. “You don’t - You don’t _deserve_ this. Any of this.”

It’s embarrassing, to be crying without control. To be crying at all. But looking at Fritz’s concerned frown, feeling the assurance in his strong grip, Lucette cannot find the faucet to shut her tears off.

Why did Fritz have to live through this? This unfair, painful one sided love of a child for their parent.

Why did any of them have to? Why was it that none of their parents had them to love them as they deserved to be?

Why was it that Fritz; lovely, dear, Fritz who glowed like the sun inside and out, had to suffer so badly, that Varg could be created and brought to life from his subconscious?

An odd expression is scrawled on Fritz’s face. He looks torn between a comforting smile and crying his eyes out, like Lucette is already, very shamefully, doing.

All of a sudden, Fritz pulls her into a hug, tightly encompassing all of Lucette. She sobs into his chest, clutching at his vest right where his heart is, willing with all her might that his pain would somehow, magically, disappear.

But it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t. Nothing heals overnight, especially not wounds like this.

Eventually, Lucette runs out of tears to cry. But the awning hole in her chest doesn’t close, not when she know how deeply hurt Fritz must still be.

“Thank you.” Fritz says, voice thick. “For crying for me, princess.”

His hold is tight, unwilling to let her go. As if determined to convey his thanks through this hug alone, as if trying to protect her from the world and all its evils.

He sounds like he’s ready to cry himself, but when he pulls away, his face is untouched. It’s barely even red, but his lips are trembling, and the smile he wears is stretched thin, though genuine.

“Aren’t you angry, Fritz?” Lucette asks, maddeningly upset at how well put together he looks, how he forces himself to smile despite it all.

“I just….” Fritz trails off. Then he takes a deep breath, and his smile, although still upsettingly sad, stretches a little wider. “I’m just used to it, I suppose.”

He leads her to one side, motioning at her to seat down on a convenient log.

They both take a seat, facing one another. For a moment, as silence cloaks the duo, Lucette thinks this might be the end of it all, that Fritz might suppress everything again just for another craved moment in the sun.

But he doesn’t. He looks Lucette squarely in the eyes, and speaks, for the first time, his truth.

“This might be upsetting to hear, so feel free to stop me anytime you want, alright?” Fritz warns, squeezing Lucette’s hands.

Fritz’s hands are trembling, and he looks soul-crushingly conflicted about his decisions, about whether he should speak. Still, he takes a deep breath and begins.

“Even as a kid, my father didn’t ever spend much time with me. I wasn’t the brawniest kid, or the weakest, either. I was just average, I guess. But average wasn’t good enough for my father. I was born just a few years before the Great War began, you see. And my father wanted a son who could take over his ambitions, or his place in battle if it ever came to that.

“I was a premature birth. So that spelt the end for my career as a great knight, in my father’s eyes. That’s why he never enrolled me to study as a knight in the palace when I was a child. Before the War, he would still occasionally have meals with my mother and I. It was infrequent, but he did. But when the War began, he simply stopped. He completely prioritised his duty as a knight. We knew he would be back to rest, but we never saw him enter or leave. My father never fully moved into the castle, but with his actions, he might as well have.

“And my mother….She couldn’t understand why my father would put his work above us. She tried so hard to fix what was already broken and it...broke her. My father’s neglect caused her to become neurotic. The mere thought of my father drove her to tears. She wouldn’t let me leave the house, or touch a single knight related object. She wasn’t a terrible mother, otherwise. She loved and cherished me, so much that she was just….Just afraid. Afraid that I would leave her, like my father did.

“Eventually, she passed. And, well, the rest is history, I suppose. That’s why my father is likely to...not be too terribly worried about my disappearance. Maybe if I was still Varg, but….”

Fritz shrugs with one shoulder, making an awkward sound with this throat. He breaks eye contact with Lucette, although his hands remain holding hers.

He looks off towards the ground, melancholy sunken deep into his smile. His eyes don’t hold anything in them, reflecting nothing but the ground

Lucette doesn’t know what to say, if only because she knows nothing she says can make him feel better. Can erase the hurt, the pain.

At this angle, stock still and breathing near non-existent, Fritz appears to be a pane of glass, merely a conduit of the backdrop, the sunlight, easily lost within the greenery indefinitely.

It would be a picturesque view, if not for the splintered smile that breaks his glassy eyes apart.

When Fritz moves again, it’s too fast, too practiced. He raises his chin, turns back to face Lucette with a mechanical touch to his movements. As if taking himself apart and putting it all back together again within seconds is second nature to him.

“Well. That’s that now. No point dwelling in the past, right?” Fritz says brightly. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but he tries.

Fritz brings a hand up, wiping the corners of Lucette’s eyes with the back of his fingers. “Sorry for bringing this up. I’m sure it was hard to hear about.”

His expression is tender, kind; words softly spoken and caring.

It almost makes Lucette believe that he’s alright, that he’s moved past all this.

But when Fritz turns to stand, Lucette spies how his teeth sinks into his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

If it were Varg, she’s sure that he would have cried. Have vented out all of the hurt on something or someone. Have screamed at the world until it gave him his recompense, for fear of what he would do to attain it.

But Fritz just...smiles. Swallows down all the hurt like a bitter pill, like an unavoidable circumstance, and allows it fester and rot inside him where he’ll bury it, deeper and deeper still.

As if in a single breath, Fritz has shuffled himself inside, locked away another part of himself that he already regrets showing

Lucette wants to speak up, wants to comfort Fritz and hold him and tell him that everything will be okay.

But Lucette can’t find it in her to tell such a cruel lie.

Lucette cannot offer any words, so her silent company will have to do, no matter how fruitless it feels.

So she just follows Fritz, just walks a little closer beside him than before.

It isn’t new to her, walking side by side with Fritz in silence. Yet the helplessness that fills Lucette makes it unbearable.

The gradient change of scenery as they near wherever Fritz was leading her to is slight, but considering how Lucette and Fritz are currently more concerned with looking at their surroundings than each other, both spot it easily.

“We should be near it.” Fritz eventually murmurs.

He sounds almost normal, if not for the shaky way he inhales as he speaks.

Eventually, the trees end in a jagged line, revealing a grassy pathway where a riverbed runs along the length of.

As the path nears the water, less dirt and grass and more uneven rocks protrude. Shiny moss covers the underside of the stones, ending in a scattered manner before the water line. The river sloshes quietly, alive with the sounds of running water. Slight sunlight catches itself in the water, glittering the surface.

The stability of the scene exudes a calming atmosphere that seeps itself into both their bones.

Feeling Fritz take a deep breath, Lucette lets go of hers.

“Is this the place you remembered?” Lucette asks.

It isn’t a place as noisy or huge as the waterfall, nor even as breathtaking as the flower field, but it has its own subtle, murmuring beauty.

Just the sight of the undisturbed riverbed washes away their previous fatigue. As if it was a quiet corner of the world, cut and reserved just for the two.

An out the way recluse, for the two who so badly needed it right now.

“Yes.” Fritz says, the smile on his face finally easing to one more pleasant to the eye.

“Its beautiful." Lucette says.

“And the water is safe to drink too, if I remember correctly.” Fritz says, stepping to the river’s side.

For once today, a memory of his past brings no pain to his face. Instead, calm happiness does.

Lucette peers into the water beside Fritz, delighted at how much more at peace he looks in his reflection.

“That’s good to know. At least none of us will have to worry about being poisoned.” Lucette says, remembering the waterfall fiasco.

“Did you, previously?”

“We did, by the waterfall.”

Fritz looks disconcerted. As if he couldn’t decide being relieved that Lucette hadn’t been put in harms way, or worried about the vague mention of Varg.

In the end, he puts the conflict aside to squat down and dip a hand in the water.

“The temperature is fine. Do you want to take a dip, princess?” Fritz asks, somewhat distractedly.

“Take a -.” Lucette immediately flushes red at the connotation.

At Lucette's fluster, Fritz speedily registers what he had just said, face growing as red as Lucette feels.

“Not with me, of course!” Fritz quickly follows up. “I’ll stand somewhere up the riverbank, to keep watch.”

Washing up sounds incredibly inviting, considering all the running and walking Lucette’s been through. She doesn’t even want to think of the dirt and grime she’s been sleeping in these few days.

Furthermore, she sorely needed a moment alone to sort out her crowded thoughts.

“I’ll leave it to you, then.” Lucette says.

“Of course.” Fritz says. The thought of being left alone for a while seems to lift a load off his shoulders, too. “Just give me a shout when you’re done.”

With that, Fritz moves upwards, walking past a few trees towards the further end of the embankment.

After he’s walked far enough, Lucette begins to undress, making sure to place her clothes somewhere dry, before quickly sinking into the cool water.

A welcome shiver runs through her body as she fully submerges herself into the river. The feeling of fresh, clean water over her skin is therapeutic.

Releasing her hairdo, Lucette lets out a helpless sigh. She’d missed the feeling of a good soak.

She manages to find a large enough rock to lean against, sitting on one of the flat stones situated at the bottom of the river.

Stretching her legs out, Lucette leans her head backwards, letting her thoughts drift.

Lucette had always suspected Fritz’s home life to be complicated, but she never expected it to be as tough as her own. She wouldn’t have known it at all, not with how Fritz acted on a daily basis.

Still, she supposes that explained some things about Varg. Like being one of the reasons as to how Varg came to be, and how impatient and rude he’d acted towards Alcaster.

Cracking her eyes open, Lucette stares at the open sky.

That was how Fritz had always been to her. An unbound person, free of doubt and worry, always ready to take flight if he just so wished.

A slice of genuine warmth in her cold, cold life.

Lucette wonders how Fritz could appear this warm, this lovely and unblemished, despite everything he’d been through.

But despite Fritz appearing that way, he wasn’t really all that, was he?

Fritz was just better than her at suppressing how he felt, at ignoring it in order to move on. No matter how much he had to force himself, he would.

Is that what being ‘good’ meant? Sacrificing oneself for others, even to the point of self-destruction? Even to the point of feeling so dead and cruel inside that a curse latched itself onto him like a second skin?

The thought unsettles Lucette. Yes, Fritz was good. She had experienced it first hand, after all. Fritz was kind; so very, very kind.

Just to everyone, but himself.

 _‘That was probably what Varg meant’,_ Lucette thinks, waving a hand in the water, watching the ripples. _‘When he said that Fritz could love and hate in equal measure.’_

Yet her analysis still felt...off, somehow. She knows she isn’t wrong, not completely. Just that there were still pieces of the puzzle named Fritz missing, such that she couldn’t fully decode what Varg had said.

His skewed sense of kindness was a part of what created Varg, but there was something more. Something darker, something that even till now darkens the shine in Fritz’s eye, makes him gaze at Lucette in a sharper, more possessive manner than she’s seen from him.

Suddenly, she remembers the way Varg had looked at her, desperate and pained, as he said, _“I just didn’t tell you who’d be doing the hurting.”_

Lucette closes her eyes once more, sighing.

That was what confused her.

After all, how could someone as gentle as Fritz even lift a hand against her?

Lifting a hand, Lucette watches the water drip from her fingertips. Thinks of the way Fritz had held it, when he spoke of his parents. How his hands had shook ever so slightly, as if afraid of - of -.

Of something in him that Lucette couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Turning her palm to face her, Lucette realises that she might start pruning if she stayed in the water any longer.

Quickly, she steps out of the river, grimacing as she pulls her clothes on. At least she was somewhat clean, even if her attire was far from it.

The ends of her hair are dripping wet. She twists it, trying to squeeze out as much water as she could. If possible, Lucette would have liked to wash it more thoroughly, but she figures that would have taken too much time and effort.

Combing her hair over a shoulder, Lucette bends over to pick up her shoes by the straps. Seeing how good the sun was today, she figures she could let her feet air dry along with her hair before she put her shoes back on.

“Fritz?” Lucette calls. She cranes her neck, trying to find the knight. He’d likely walked further up, since she couldn’t see him at all.

Walking along the riverbank, Lucette trods towards where she’d last seen Fritz.

Finding no trace of him, she frowns, and walks further on.

Just as she’s about to call for him again, she sees Fritz standing a ways by the river in a sunspot, topless and dripping with water. He’d probably taken a quick dip, just like she had.

Thankfully, Fritz isn’t facing her right now. His side profile shows off his jawline, the curvatures of his body that is riddled with scars.

His wet fringe is slicked back, a hand holding them in place, the other cradling his shirt. Eyes half lidded, he appears preoccupied with his own thoughts.

Lucette had always known that Fritz was well built - any knight had to be - but seeing it in person was a whole different experience. She didn’t know where to look, not when staring at Fritz felt so scandalous, somehow.

Lucette swallows, hard.

Before she can decide whether to turn back or make herself known, Fritz spots her.

“Princess! You’re finished?”

His smile is blindingly bright, all previous worries appearing to have been washed aside. Something stirs in the pit of Lucette’s stomach, and she has to press a hand over it to quieten it.

Lucette nods. Finding enough self-restraint within herself, Lucette tears her eyes away from Fritz’s defined abdomen. “Fritz, your shirt.”

Fritz looks down, suddenly realising his state of half dress. Blushing, Fritz hurriedly pulls his shirt back on. It wrinkles badly from the rush, and he tries in vain to smooth them down.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck as Lucette walks forward to help him. “I didn’t think you’d be finished so quickly, so I decided to wash up a little myself.”

Lucette shakes her head. “It’s fine.”

They end up sitting by the riverbank to dry off, dangling their legs over the water, just shy of breaking the surface.

The few birds that inhabit the forest decide to join them, twittering from the distant branches.

Basking in the sun, Lucette thinks back to her previous thoughts, and wonders if this would be a good time to ask Fritz about Varg, and the things he warned her of.

She isn’t sure how she’d start, or what she might end up conveying. All she wanted to make known was how even despite everything that had happened, all the sadness that inhabited Fritz, Varg was someone who deserved a chance.

How _Fritz_ was someone who deserved a chance at the happiness that always seemed to escape him.

“Penny for your thoughts, princess?”

Unsurprisingly, Fritz has read right through her poker face once more. His ability to read her so accurately was as endearing as it was troublesome, really.

“If you don’t mind listening.” Lucette says, hesitating.

“Never.”

“I wanted to talk about Varg.”

At the mere mention of the name, Fritz stills, expression dropping. But he nods at Lucette to continue, so she does.

“He...wasn’t as terrible as we all made him out to be. He’s brash, rude, and doesn’t have a single considerate bone in his body, but he was...kind. To me.” Lucette says, staring at the water.

“The worst parts of his personality were amplified by Mythros, so it wasn’t as if he was actively out to hurt me. Even though he did hurt me, I can tell he genuinely feels sorry for it, and that he wants to make up for it. And I - I want to give him a chance, because even with his misgivings, he’s -.”

“Princess.”

Lucette is unceremoniously cut off by Fritz. She turns to face him, only to find him looking at her with a carefully vacant expression. It’s the same one that had triggered that sense of unease, of unsettlement in her, the first night Fritz had appeared again.

“How do you know?”

“Pardon?” Lucette says, too stricken by the vicious look in Fritz’s eyes to properly formulate a response.

“How do you know he won’t hurt you?”

Fritz has his hands clasped tightly together, braced on his knees. But his glare never leaves Lucette’s face.

There’s a hint of something foreign, something violent in the way Fritz speaks and looks. It scares Lucette, in a way she never wanted Fritz to make her feel.

“I -.”

Once again, before Lucette can finish her sentence, Fritz is cutting her off, this time by leaning in. He maintains appropriate distance between them, but its still the closest they’ve been.

“You don’t, princess.” Fritz says, voice barely a whisper. Just as quickly as the viciousness had risen in his eyes, it fades, leaving behind only upset. “Princess, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And I won’t be. Because you’ll be with me, won’t you, Fritz?” Lucette replies, leaning in till their foreheads brush. “And so will Varg.”

“Princess."

Suddenly, Fritz sounds wholly different, deeper and more commanding. Staring into his eyes, Lucette finds something she never knew Fritz was capable of harbouring.

Jealousy.

“Won’t you stop talking about that man in front of me?”

Fritz is barely an inch away. His plea is so soft that every word that leaves him brushes against Lucette’s lips. He snakes an arm around her waist, and in his grasp, Lucette feels trapped.

For the first time, Fritz stops looking like a knight, and more like a person.

Then he’s leaning in, pressing his lips to Lucette’s firmly.

It’s an unexpected but not unwelcome initiative. Still, it wasn’t the type of kiss Lucette had ever expected to receive from Fritz.

The kiss is hungry, barely abated desire. When they part just enough for Lucette to take a quick breath, Fritz moves his other hand to cradle the side of her head, angling it to kiss her deeper. An involuntary shudder wrecks itself down Lucette’s spine.

His lips move roughly against hers, urgent and fierce. It almost felt like he was trying to devour her whole.

She gasps, and when he licks the inside of her mouth, Lucette all but melts.

The tangent of possessiveness is strong, and in the contratoring nature of Fritz and his kiss, Lucette too finds an inner conflict of enjoyment and fear arising.

But one thing remains startling clear, to Lucette. This isn’t what she wants from Fritz, even if it’s what he wants from her.

When they break apart once more, a string of saliva trails from Lucette’s lips to his.

Fritz’s eyes are glazed, a predatory glint in them Lucette has come to recognise, just not with him. He’s flushed all the way down to his neck, so clearly visible from the way he tilts his head.

Unconsciously, Fritz licks his lips.

Lucette immediately presses her fingers to his mouth, shaking her head. She can’t take another kiss like that, physically and mentally speaking.

Not when she feels so much fear from it.

“No.” Lucette says, for good measure.

The word seems to bring Fritz crashing back down to Earth. The glassy look shatters, replaced by utmost horror. Embarrassment and shame clouds his features, makes him avert his eyes and remove his arm around Lucette.

Miraculously, Lucette remains upright. When she takes her fingers away, an apology shoots out of Fritz faster than he has ever spoken to her.

“I’m sorry, princess. I shouldn’t have.”

Before Lucette can get a word in edgewise, Fritz is on his feet, hurrying away with one hand clamped over his mouth.

Twisting her torso, Lucette watches Fritz flee. She wants to call out to him before he can run too far, but he stops just past the first line of trees. His head is bent downwards, fingers drumming uneasily on the hilt of his sword, the other hand still clapped over his mouth.

He’s gone far enough that Lucette can’t hold him, but still close enough to be seen, somewhat.

Just like how he’s always been, with her.

Touching her lips, the taste of Fritz still startlingly fresh, Lucette thinks that this might be the first time she’s caught a glimpse of what Fritz was trying so desperately to hide from her.

 

* * *

 

For the next few days, the distance between Fritz and Lucette stays the same.

Time might has well have spun back to when they first met, when they were unsure of each other’s intentions.

But unlike backthen, this time it’s Fritz who is hell bent on keeping the rift between them torn wide open.

He actively avoids making any eye contact, and speaks only when spoken to. In fact, he’d even barred Lucette from following him on any explorations or walks now.

The first time Fritz had told her to stay behind, she’d flared up at him. Lucette had argued angrily, nearly ready to just stalk behind no matter what he said, until Fritz clapped his hands on her shoulders.

“Please, princess. I don’t want to hurt you.”

His voice was so broken and tiny, unlike his strong grasp. His eyes too betrayed his inner fears, reflecting such helplessness and desperation that it extinguished any fight left in Lucette.

So for three days, Lucette sat by the trunk, watching over the fort.

Not that there was much to watch, considering how little happenings went on in the forest.

Left behind in the silent area, Lucette was abysmally bored and lonely. Curled around herself with her arms hugging her knees, Lucette thinks of how childish she must look, how disgraceful. But sitting formally for so long had tired her out. It was pure pride alone that kept her face from being buried in her knees.

She understood what Fritz was trying to do. He was handling the situation the only way he knew how, the only surefire way he knew she would be safe.

By perpetually putting distance between them.

But just because Lucette understood his reasoning, it didn’t mean that she liked it. Or that it was right, as she was starting to realise.

It was difficult, waiting for the dragging hours to pass, for Fritz to return, just for him to ignore her and sleep leaning on a different side of the trunk.

Every day, Lucette would sit, digging her nails into her legs. Frustrated by her situation, angry with Fritz for not being willing to just _communicate,_ upset that he thought so little of their bond that he thought a roadbump would have destroyed it forever.

Thinking back to the kiss, Lucette feels her face heat up, her insides churn. It was an odd one to think about, with how pleasant yet terrifying it was.

Fritz really was Varg, as Varg was Fritz, after all.

They were the same person, with the same wants and desires.

Only one of them was more upfront about it, while the other would have preferred to burn alive rather than ever admit to it.

Or, wait till his jealousy burst forth to give him the courage to take what he wanted, Lucette supposes.

Still, she couldn’t deny how she’d been terrified by the sudden flare of Fritz’s possessive nature.

Lucette had always known of Fritz’s overprotective tendencies, but seeing it manifest in such a frightening manner had scared her.

And she hated it. That she was afraid of Fritz, that he could ever make her feel so small. Especially when she knew he would have wanted anything but that.

He’d said it since the beginning, didn’t he? That all he wanted was to see her smile.

Yet all they had been doing was run away from each other, avoiding tricky topics and trying to get to the end goal of happiness without even stopping to acknowledge all the cracks forming between them.

Scrubbing her eyes, Lucette is determined not to cry. She had known it would hurt, pursuing someone who hid so many secrets. She had known that the path wouldn’t be easy.

But she had chosen to love Fritz anyway.

She could have chosen the easy path out, chosen to love someone less complicated, or less dear to her, but she hadn’t.

Sitting alone in the forest, surrounded by greenery and an never ending silence, Lucette recalls the garden labyrinth, how Fritz would always find her, no matter how hard she tried to tuck herself away into an unseen pocket of the universe.

So this time, it was her turn to find Fritz in his self-made labyrinth of secrets and pain, no matter how badly he wanted to hide away from the world, from her.

Because all she wanted was to see Fritz truly smile from the bottom of his heart, too.

 

* * *

 

That day, Fritz returned just before the sun set, as usual.

He then moved towards the firepit to start a fire again, as usual.

He doesn’t look or even speak to her, as usual.

Then Lucette decides that the usual routine isn’t doing it for her and breaks it, like what she used to do with any other thing she detested.

Lucette brushes herself off as she stands.

Fritz eyes her warily. Cautiously, he lowers the flint in his hands.

“I’m tired of sitting around.” Lucette says. “Let’s play a game, Fritz.”

“Princess….” Fritz looks conflicted. He looks back at the firepit, frowning. “I’m not in the mood.”

“It wasn’t a request.” Lucette returns.

Immediately, she heads for the woods. The soft pattering of footsteps behind hint that Fritz is following. The moment he catches up, he grabs her wrist to stop her. But just as quickly, he lets go, acting as if merely touching Lucette had burnt him.

Lucette curls her hand into a fist and wills her expression to remain blank.

“Princess, it’s getting late. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?”

“No.” Lucette spins on her heel to fully face Fritz. This is the first time in three days that he’s looked her in the eye.

This is the first time in three years that he’s regarded her with so much unnecessary reverence.

She pushes Fritz with one hand, right in the middle of his chest. He barely stumbles. “You’re it.”

Before Fritz can fully process what’s happened, Lucette has already taken off running.

She’s barely aware of Fritz’s alarmed shout, the white noise of adrenaline ringing in her ears deafening her.

The setting sun soaks every step she takes, lighting her path orange-red. Planes of light cut through the canopy of leaves, alternating shades of shadow and light.

Her legs take her further, further away from shelter, away from a life that’s wrapped in lies told towards oneself for faux comfort, for forcing oneself to move on even though one’s heart is utterly unprepared to do so.

Every step she takes feels like lightning is shooting through her soles, her lungs straining for oxygen that she doesn’t pause to deliver.

Still, faster and further she goes.

Lucette is no knight in shining armour who’s capable of scaling distances just to save his one true love, his princess trapped in a tower.

Lucette is just a sheltered, silly princess who wants to trust people for more than their worth, and so, so sick of being told that that was wrong, that it was futile.

Lucette is just a girl who’s tired of telling herself that being brave enough to love and trust someone is wrong, is meant to hurt so badly that she’d rather never feel anything again.

Lucette is just downright irritated with having to live so unfairly, so untruthfully to herself.

Her breath comes harsh and hard, and her heart is rattling in her ribcage.

Once again, Lucette finds herself running away.

Except this time, she knows exactly where she’s going, who she’s running towards.

In no time at all, she breaks through the forest, into the flower field that revels in the colour of the sunset, glowing and alive despite it all

Momentum propels her forward still, towards the middle of the flower field, where she’s able to look upon the entire expanse of land.

Fritz is right on her heels, stepping past the forest’s edge mere steps after she has.

Winded, chest tight like a wound up spring, fists shaking by her side, Lucette looks down at Fritz.

Beautiful, barely dented Fritz, who looks back at her with slighted determination, with barely concealed desire.

The light of the sun cuts over the field, so glaring it takes with it parts of the area. Erasing them from sight, but not from mind.

Fritz takes a step forward. Lucette takes one back.

She tilts her chin up.

“The rules are simple. You don’t win until you’ve caught me.”

Lucette’s words resound unrelenting and loud, in the patient clearing.

The sun glares too brightly for Fritz to hide away. His face is a jumble of odd expressions, of frustration, of love, of fear, of want.

Of the strong, strong need to become someone else, someone that wasn’t himself, yet was.

Bathed in the sun’s unfractured light, an unfazed desire plainly painted all over his features, Fritz looks less like a knight, a little more like a hunter.

Or maybe even a wolf.

“You promise, princess?” Fritz asks, voice low.

“Of course.” Lucette says, taking another step back.

She runs another few steps only for Fritz to catch hold of her wrist. But his hold is too weak, and she shakes it off easily.

Catching her meant nothing if he wasn’t going to hold on to her, after all.

Realising the catch in the game, Fritz begins running once more, quickly cutting off Lucette’s point of escape by standing in her path.

She thinks of turning, of running in a different direction, but she knew the moment she laid her eyes on Fritz that the chase was over.

Both for him, and for her.

Her steps send her straight into his open arms that curl around her almost immediately.

“Caught you, princess.”

The relief is clear in Fritz’s voice, so endearing and kind.

Honest, earnest Fritz. Of course he would have caught her this way, even when he seemed to beat himself up so much over trying to even stand on an equal status with her.

Even when he was afraid that his touch could break her.

“No, i’ve caught _you._ ” Lucette breathes, circling her arms around his middle, clutching at the back of his shirt. She’d missed it, being able to stand so close to Fritz, being able to hold him tight.

She looks up, propping her chin on his chest. A small, victorious smile attaches itself to her face, despite all the tears she feels like she might shed.

“No more running away.” She says, commanding. “Not from me, Fritz.”

The dying light settles on Fritz’s features, seeping into the cracks of his apathetic facade. It brings out the pain in his eyes, the gleam of unshed tears, the locked away desires of his heart.

Ah, after all, Fritz really did look the best under the sun.

The most human.

“But I -.”

“You are mine.” Lucette says, cutting off any excuses he might try to come up with. “Or at least, I want you to be. As I want to be yours.”

Fritz stares at her with shock. He looks blown away, like he never expected any of these words to come from Lucette. Or from anyone, for that matter.

“So no more running, Fritz. I don’t want a half-hearted happiness. I don’t want the only one to be happy. I want you to be happy too, Fritz. And if possible,” Lucette swallows, wanting with all her heart to look away in embarrassment. “For you to be happy by my side.”

Fritz continues dumbly staring at her. Then his face morphs into a pained smile, all torn with conflicting feelings.

It’s a heartbreaking smile Lucette has never seen, but it’s one she would never deny.

No matter how afraid Fritz looks of her doing exactly so.

“Princess.” He rasps, leaning on his heels. Lucette’s body slides, leaning against Fritz’s.

“How much of Little Red Riding Hood’s story did Varg tell you?”

Lucette blinks. There isn’t any venom in his voice at the mention of Varg’s name, just calm mirth.

“...Pretty much everything. How Little Red Riding Hood went to the forest to visit her grandmother, got eaten by the wolf, and was then rescued by the hunter.”

Fritz strokes the back of Lucette’s head as she speaks, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Did you ever wonder,” Fritz says slowly, hand coming to a rest beneath Lucette’s head. “Why the hunter chose that exact moment to save Little Red Riding Hood?”

Lucette frowns. “What do you mean?”

“The hunter must have known that the forest was dangerous. That Little Red Riding Hood would be in danger, if she were to traverse it alone. That the wolf would prey on her. But he didn’t warn her, not once. He simply waited till she got eaten before saving her. Don’t you think that’s twisted?”

Fritz’s half-lidded eyes grow vacant. Like the calm before a storm.

“Almost as if he wanted her to have been in trouble. To have her fate in his grasp, to be played with and controlled as he wanted. To want a reason to be seen as a hero, even despite all his ill intentions.” Fritz slips his hand cradling Lucette’s head forward, thumb brushing against her earlobe.

His expression darkens, dyed with hurt and want. Amber eyes sparking with a warning light.

“Princess, he must have told you that i’d hurt you. _He_ would have.” Fritz murmurs. His voice is akin to a stormcloud, so ready to burst. His breath hitches, and he suddenly bends forward, burying his face in Lucette’s shoulder, as if ashamed to be looking so weak, so unreliable.

“I’m meant to protect you, but I don’t have the confidence that I’ll always be able to.”

Somehow, the way he’s clutching onto Lucette doesn’t comfort her the slightest. The desperation in his arms, his voice, makes her want to cry instead, to ask him what it was that was holding him back so horribly, what it was inside him that convinced him for so many years that he wouldn’t have what it took to make her happy despite every single one of her actions proving him otherwise.

“I’m afraid that i’ll end up monopolising you. Caging you. Hurting you, out of fear. Out of love. But that isn’t love. Such control isn’t _love_.” Fritz’s voice practically cracks at the last word. At the realisation that fruits may not fall far from their trees, that the pain he suffered in childhood may inevitably befall Lucette as well.

“Princess, I don’t - I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t want to give you up, either.” His embrace becomes tighter, and Lucette realises that he’s pulling her closer. She fists his shirt, pressing her face into the crook of his neck.

He’s warm, pressed against her. Like how he always has been, like how he’s always tried to be.

“Fritz.” Lucette says, soft. “Listen. Just because your father and mother had an awful relationship doesn’t mean you will have one too. It might have made you fear and deny what you wanted and how you wanted it, because you always thought you were never going to be a person beyond your parents’ behaviour.”

“But Fritz, you’re different.” Lucette continues, peering at the sky behind them, the beautiful, open expanse that stretches on and on. “Unlike your parents, unlike _me_ , you didn’t let that hold you down. You didn’t let the fact that you weren’t properly loved turn you cold. You chose to love others like you weren’t loved, Fritz. Your love fundamentally came from a different place from your heart. A better, much more well meaning part. You never wanted to hold me down, so you never could.

“Just because you desire me in every way possible, it doesn’t mean you’ll hurt me to attain it. You never have, not when you’re in the right mind. Not even as Varg. None of you have ever hurt me and meant it.”

Lucette squeezes Fritz’s shaking frame, pressing her cheek to his neck. “And I won’t let either of you hurt me, either. Not me, nor the people around us. Because that’s another thing we have that your, no, _our_ parents didn’t. People who care about us, people who would bring us back to our senses if it ever comes the day where we end up being terrible for each other. Not that I believe that day will ever come, of course.”

Lucette smiles into the crook of Fritz’s neck, the dampness on her shoulder growing.

“So it’s fine, Fritz. For you to love me. For you to love yourself.”

Lucette leans back, releasing Fritz’s face from her shoulder. His face is tear stained, splotches of red colouring his cheeks and beneath his eyes. Tears continuously pour from his eyes, worth years and years of pain.

She takes his face between her hands, delicately wiping his cheeks with her thumbs. Fritz hiccups wetly, unable to let go of her.

“I always thought you’d be a big crybaby.” Lucette says, fond.

“I don’t deserve you, princess.” Fritz mumbles.

“Oh, shush.”

The earlier glare of the sun has dwindled to a soft glow, basking the scenery more purple-red than orange. Fritz’s face catches all the hues, the sharp angular shadows and shapes of his face saturated gently.

It isn’t the Fritz Lucette knows, who made himself smile despite adversity. It isn’t an odd sight either, or one to despised.

It’s just another part of Fritz he had kept so carefully hidden away, finally now able to see the light.

But in the coldness of the setting sun, something felt off. Like there was something more to his story, something that Fritz wasn’t telling her.

Something that still made the creases between Fritz’s eyebrows line ever deeper with pain, with grief.

Something that made his tears overflow, endlessly trailing down his cheeks and over Lucette’s hands.

Something that made his form shake so, even as he holds her tight.  
  
As the sun sinks beyond the horizon, Lucette realises what the odd feeling was, what underlying tone he had spoken with.

It’s the same tone Delora had used to defend herself from Lucette’s accusations before she had fled Marchen.

Guilt.

It was the undeniable, heavy, tone of guilt.


	7. run with the hare and hunt with the hounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which one allows themself to believe in the strength of the heart, and the other promises a love that will last.
> 
> (but when will a heart still weighed down by the past heal?)

Despite the foreboding note the day had ended, it felt as if a considerable weight had been lifted off Fritz’s shoulders ever since then.

His demeanor relaxed significantly, returning to the same old knight who’d faced Lucette for three years of her life.

Still, some changes were to be expected.

For the most part, Fritz simply stayed by Lucette’s side as he always had. Although lately, he could be found helplessly smiling in Lucette’s direction, or speaking at lengths at a time.

Most importantly, he stopped trying to put so much distance between them. But it wasn’t as if he suddenly decided that Lucette’s personal space was his own, either. He simply allowed things to return as they were, and that was enough for both of them.

It relieved Lucette, to have Fritz by her side again.

She hadn’t realised how anxious she was not having Fritz by her side until he returned.

During the three days she was left alone, every one of her nerve endings felt like they were on fire, and she left like a child again, without even her dolls to comfort her.

Still, it came as a surprise that she’d latch onto Fritz the moment he returned to his usual self. Often, she’d find herself reaching out for his hand, or leaning in to his touch a little more than usual. Then she’d blink, snatch back her hand, and stare at it as if it had personally offended her.

It disconcerts Lucette. She didn’t think she was the clingy type, or someone who required constant attention.

But she thinks it comes from a deeper place in her, a place quiet and dark that tells her she doesn’t deserve anything she’s gotten, anything she wants to obtain. That anyone she loves will eventually slip out of grasp, run away from her at the first opportunity they got.

A place that originated from glowing green eyes and a contemptuous red lipped smile.

It had caused nights to become particularly bad. During the period without Fritz by her side, she’d slipped back to numbing herself to sleep, convincing herself that day would come sooner with her eyes squeezed shut, her ears tuned to the fire.

Fitful sleep had accompanied her for two nights, the fire lulling her back to sleep every time she jolted awake. When the fire had went out, she would sneak around the trunk to catch even the briefest glimpse of Fritz, sitting eerily still with his eyes closed.

Pulling the cloak around her, she would stand there, just watching, until she felt her heartbeat return to a normal rate, until her night terrors remained nothing but vague memories.

Then she’d return to the alcove, tucking herself within the cloak, burying her face into the velvet material, hoping for even a whiff of something familiar to put her at ease.

Now, with Fritz sleeping beside her once more, she finds herself pressing closer to his side. Some mornings, she’d find herself waking up with his sleeve curled into her fist, crusts of leftover tears left on the corners of her eyelashes.

But the night terrors don’t let up that easily, that quickly. If anything, now that Lucette has finally let her guard down in what feels like years, they return with a vengeance.

In the middle of her first night back beside Fritz, Lucette had bolted awake chased by tendrils of magic, dead birds, and ear piercing screaming she hadn’t recognised as her own until Fritz had her in his arms.

She hadn’t been able to stop the fear from coursing through her body, from clogging her mind with untruths.

Not until her numbed body registered the warmth not her own pressed firmly against her, holding her.

Fritz had tucked her head under his chin, muttering reassurances. Soft spoken truths, of care, of love.

And Lucette would allow herself to be soothed by the familiar consonants, the humming lilt with which Fritz pronounced words.

But she never overlooks the way he mouths guilt laced apologies into her head, in between his sweet whispers.

It confuses Lucette, unsettles her. It makes her feel like this is the beginning of something worse to come, instead of an ending to a bad chapter in their lives.

Still, Lucette forces herself to be satisfied just for how he’s back beside her. She cannot make Fritz to speak of things he doesn’t want to.

She can only curl against his frame, to share some of her warmth with him too, to let him know that she would always be there, waiting to listen to what he wanted to say.

At the very least, she would think, she wanted to let him know that he wouldn’t have to face anything alone, ever again.

But the relief that daybreak offers cannot be denied.

It’s a sign of a new beginning, hope for a better time to come.

 _‘And so it would’_ , Lucette thinks, _‘now that Fritz has finally allowed me to explore the area with him again.’_

The knowledge that they cannot remain in the forest forever has been nagging at them, and Lucette’s recurring nightmares have finally kicked them into action.

Going back to Marchen was a top priority, Lucette had told Fritz. With her mother revived and in control of Angielle, they’d need as much help as possible in overthrowing her. Fritz had agreed - after all, Lucette’s safety came above anything else, and returning to the palace would have put not just her life, but Fritz’s own in danger once more.

Therefore nowadays, they put in more effort into trying to uncover the way back. It’s confusing and tougher than it needs to be, trying to navigate a fairy enchanted forest with two witch bound humans.

But with Fritz’s memory and much trial and error, they eventually crack a pattern to the manner of which the environment shifts.

Today is spent mostly on mapping the way, orienting their map and making sure they know where they’re going and where they’re heading.

To try and prevent getting lost to a certain level, Lucette had collected smooth pebbles by the river, dropping them from time to time to create a track for them to follow.

“It feels like we’re Hansel and Gretel.” Fritz laughs, swinging their connected hands.

“Who?” Lucette asks.

“Hansel and Gretel. They were a pair of siblings whose parents left them in the forest. Hansel, the older brother, left a trail of shining stones to help them find their way back home.” Fritz explains.

“That doesn’t sound like a very nice story.” Lucette replies, frowning

“Well, the siblings do end up happy and rich, with their father who lamented his decision.” Fritz says, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t remember too many details about the rest of the story, though.”

“I see.” Lucette says, thoughtfully.

“But just like us, they end up finding their way back to where they were meant to be. So i’m sure we’ll be fine too.” Fritz says, trying and failing to hide the unease in his smile with his light tone.

It really isn’t hard to see why Fritz would be reluctant to return to Marchen. He only had Lucette’s brief explanation and encounters to base on, and that wasn’t much at all. Even just listening to herself explain about the boarders and the tavern herself had Lucette regretting not spending more time with them, if only to get to know them better.

They were kind people, but she could barely say a single word about them as individuals beyond surface impressions. It was no wonder that Fritz worried about going to a place like that to seek refuge.

Still, he trusted Lucette. Anyone whom she chose to put her trust in he would too, he’d said.

Not just because she was his charge, but because she was Lucette.

But it still makes Lucette wonder, if he’d rather be back among the familiar decor of the palace, even with all the dangers. As a knight, that was where he was most well-versed and confident, with every nook and cranny known to him.

Not that she would have let him gone back, not with Alcaster, her mother and Mythros on the prowl.

She had more than just Fritz to protect now, after all.

But still, she wonders. In fact, while on this train of thought, another comes up.

“Fritz?” Lucette asks.

“Hm?”

“How _did_ you become a knight? I’ve heard that it’s nearly impossible to become one without going through the academy affiliated with aristocracy.”

“I did attend the academy, princess. I entered through my father’s connections, when I showed him what I learnt myself.” Fritz replies. “I just started later than most. I was already thirteen when I entered.”

“So you got stuck in a class with all the ten year olds?” Lucette asks. The mental image makes her stifle a laugh.

“Only at first!” Fritz protests. “I quickly out paced them and jumped grades.”

“The perks of being a prodigy?” Lucette teases.

Fritz blushes. “ _That,_ and a somewhat solid foundation in swordplay.”

Fritz pauses, glancing at Lucette. He sounds hesitant to continue, but Lucette’s curious gaze coaxes him to. So with a distant look in his eye and a soft smile, he does.

“I taught myself basic sword skills after my mother passed when I was nine - it’s also when I first starting coming to the forest. I didn’t want to paint a target on my own back by learning how to fight in the midst of a war.”

“Hard working as usual.” Lucette says fondly, despite the pang of hurt at the mention of Fritz’s past once more. “I apologise if this brought up bad memories.”

“Oh, no.” Fritz shakes his head. “It’s still a little hard to talk about, but...I think it’s necessary. I don’t mind talking more about it, if you’d like to know.”

“Only for as long as you wish to talk about it.” Lucette replies, squeezing his hand.

Fritz turns towards Lucette, smile fading into a bittersweet hue as he reminisces. “Well. After my mother passed away, I found myself with a lot more time and freedom than I knew what to do with. I yearned for my father’s attention, so I took up swordplay in hopes of being able to spend more time with him. He was too busy with his duties to teach me, so I taught myself. I managed to find a back road that lead to this forest, and would practice nearly every day. Ten years later, it landed me a spot as your personal knight.”

Lucette runs a thumb over Fritz’s knuckles, her palm pressed against his own, rough and scratched. “It must have been difficult, doing all this alone.”

“It was, in the beginning.” Fritz admitted. “Not having anyone to guide me caused certain skills to turn out sloppier than others, but it was fun, having been able to learn new tricks by myself.”

Fritz’s face brightens, nostalgic.

“Having the forest as your solace was good, wasn’t it?” Lucette says.

“It was. It was my one breather, from the buzz of the city and my home.” Fritz smiles. “In fact, it even felt like my own little hideout. A very big one, but still.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he looks almost embarrassed to admit that. It warms Lucette to hear that.

She could just picture it, little Fritz running around and playing in a forest without a care in the world. Exploring every inch of the forest floor, until he knew it like the back of his hand. It seemed like just the thing he might do.

“With all that, i’m surprised you didn’t catch up with your father in skill earlier.” Lucette says.

“My foundation in certain skills were built poorly, and it caused me to develop some rather unrefined habits when fighting.” Fritz reveals. “Most of my time in the academy was spent training those habits out of muscle memory, rather than honing actual skills.”

Lucette thinks of the hours of training a knight had to go through, and how some nights she would catch Fritz practicing in the courtyard right outside her room. No doubt he would have doubled his efforts as a trainee, without his attention needing to be split between his sword and his princess.

She wonders if someone could really go this far with their job, even if it was for another’s sake.

“You must really enjoy swordplay and training.” Lucette says.

“Not really. It serves well as something to distract me and focus on, and learning new skills is always a thrill, but constantly having to redo drills can be quite boring.” Fritz replies.

“Then why do you work so hard?” Lucette asks.

Fritz smiles proudly. “For you, princess, of course. So I am always capable of protecting you. It was my oath, and my personal wish.”

Lucette’s face instantly turns bright red. The way Fritz could so earnestly and so suddenly say what would be deemed cheesy from anyone else was incredible.

Lucette thinks its another one of his talents she’s unfolded, that somehow, endears her even more to him.

“Don’t you feel embarrassed, saying things like that?” Lucette asks. She’s almost tempted to press a hand to her cheek just to feel how warm she is.

“Not when it’s the truth.” Fritz says, gently squeezing Lucette’s hand.

“Smooth talker.” Lucette murmurs, without bite.

That just garners a light laugh from Fritz, melodic yet deep.

It stirs something in Lucette, that makes her want to lean towards Fritz and bask in his sun for a bit.

“It suits you. Swordsmanship. You seem so much more alive when you wield a sword.”

“Is that so?” Fritz hums. Somehow, he sounds like he isn’t sure whether he should be happy about the comment or not.

Like there was something that the sword represented, something that prevented him from fully embracing as a passion.

“That’s not a good thing?” Lucette asks. She’s starting to learn that Fritz wasn’t terribly good at talking about himself, or about the things that bothered him. Or at least, it took him a while to decide to, unlike how determined he always seemed to probe Lucette’s thoughts out of her.

“Well.” Fritz says, undecided. “I don’t know. I enjoy the sport, certainly. And how it gives me the ability to protect those I care about. But I don’t know if I like how I resemble my father, in a sense where my fighting abilities are a source of my motivation to grow as a knight.”

There’s a momentary pause. Lucette understands Fritz’s indecision, if only by a little. Magic had been terrifying to learn, and the feeling of control it wielded her had made her fear devolving into her mother’s image more than once.

“Isn’t that fine?” Lucette says, partially to herself. “You can take your time to decide whether that’s a good or bad thing. It’s your skills. Your abilities. Whatever you choose to carve out from it is yours to own, and yours to dictate as a positive or negative.”

Fritz looks down at Lucette, giving her a thoughtful nod. “That’s very kind of you to say, princess.”

Lucette looks back at Fritz, at his ever present smile. It crinkles the edges of his eyes, makes the sunspots that dance on his face and figure seem all the more brilliant.

She doesn’t quite understand how words born out of her own lack of aptitude can be kind, but she thinks she can believe that, since its coming from Fritz.

At the same time, listening to Fritz speak of an art he so clearly cared for with such distaste pulls at Lucette’s heart.

She wonders what he thought, when he first decided to learn how to fight. When his desires aligned with his father’s, until he learnt what that truly entailed.

Until he learnt how starkly different their moral compasses aligned, and exactly what his father was willing to sacrifice.

Even though he’d clearly come a long way from where he began, the frightening notion of never escaping a parent’s shadow or their influence lingers.

Lucette should know this best.

But unlike Lucette, unlike her seeing a blind truth as she grew, Fritz was never allowed that reprise.

He had to face harsh reality every day he woke, in that impersonal, empty house.

It was a miracle he grew into the fine young man he currently was.

Except it wasn’t that easy, was it?

Lucette’s chest contracts painfully, making it hard to breathe.

While Lucette lived a beautiful lie, never made to move on from a matter never exposed, Fritz made himself suppress all that he was, all that he felt, if only to possess the strength to live on and seek brighter days ahead.

And the forest gave him that escape. But instead of running, Fritz used it as an opportunity to seize the future he wanted with his own bare hands, even if it meant sealing away parts of himself in order to do so.

Even if it meant killing off any part of himself that might hinder him; his impassion, his fury, his indignance against the world and all it had to offer; but most importantly, all the pain that he’d harboured.

No wonder Varg knew the forest.

It had been his second home, too.

It had been the only place Fritz was allowed a moment to truly be himself and feel alive again, with a sword in his hands and an emptiness in his gut that threatened to eat him inside out.

As much as this place had brought Fritz happiness, it had also served as somewhere for him to hide away, unhappy and stifled with tears he couldn’t cry.

It had also allowed him a place to contain himself, to structure himself into someone more presentable, less animalistic.

Less of himself.

Lucette wonders if that’s what sends Fritz into a dialed down frenzy whenever Varg is mentioned - the simple, jarring thought of having to see past one’s structured facade, to remember and acknowledge the imperfections he hadn’t allowed himself to have.

The horrifying matter of fact that he might drown in his own pain the moment he acknowledged it was there.

It wasn’t that Fritz didn’t want to acknowledge Varg. It wasn’t that Varg hated Fritz.

It was that they couldn’t bring themselves to do the opposite, for fear of what might happen if they did.

More specifically, what might happen to the other party.

The realisation makes Lucette stop short. What _would_ happen to the both of them? The specifications of the curse hadn’t been kind - one was required to overthrow the other in order to survive.

But was that really the only choice?

“Princess, are you okay?”

Fritz’s voice pulls Lucette out of her own thoughts. She wants to say yes, to not make him worry. But her heart feels like it’s doing a marathon, and her breath isn’t coming easy.

The thought of losing either of the personality is enough to choke Lucette up. To make her ears ring, her mouth go dry. Everything is at once too loud and too quiet.

Her sight blurs.

“Princess!”

Lucette isn’t even aware of herself tipping towards the side until Fritz catches her against his body. Her breaths are harsh pants, yet she doesn’t think she’s getting enough oxygen to think properly, still.

Cold sweat trickles down the side of her face. Her feet are moving, but she isn’t sure where she’s going. She lands on a hard surface, and instantly she wants to bury her face into her lap until the dizzy spell is over with.

“Princess.”

Her title that tumbles from Fritz’s lips over and over is the only thing grounding her. The only thing that reminds her that it isn’t over, not yet.

She can vaguely feel Fritz gathering her hands in his own, his fingers entangling hers. Anchoring her down.

“Princess, _breathe.”_

And Lucette does, properly, deeply.

The first breath makes her completely light headed. The second makes the colours of the forest return. The third stills the buzzing in her ears, gives her the confidence to lift her head without feeling the need to keel over again.

Fritz’s knotted brows and thinly pressed lips swims into her vision. He squeezes her hands encouragingly.

On her next breath, Lucette feels her airways clear, her insides and thoughts settle.

It helps that Fritz’s hold only grows stronger with every inhale.

“Do you feel better now, princess?” Fritz asks, low and comforting.

“Yes.” Lucette answers. Her head still feels woozy, but not as worse as before. The low rush of water to her side clues her in; they’ve returned to the river bank, where she sits on a taller rock situated near the edge of the river.

 _‘Right, we were going there for a water break.’_ Lucette remembers.

“You aren’t used to walking for so long for so many days in a row. You were pushing yourself.” Fritz says, the disapproval over his lack of attentiveness evident in his voice. “I should have noticed.”

He’s right, to a certain extent. Lucette had felt her body grow stiffer over the past few days, her joints sore as she woke and walked. She had assumed it was the forest reacting to her being a witch and brushed it off. So it was just over exhaustion.

But it didn’t make it right for Fritz to blame himself for this. Lucette shifts forward, tucking her legs inwards to try and get closer to tell him as such, but the movement makes her flinch.

Fritz catches the reflexive action, and his frown deepens. Crouched on one knee before her, he motions to Lucette’s leg. “Princess, if I may take a look at your feet…?”

At Lucette’s nod, Fritz gently hooks a hand behind her left ankle, lifting her leg. He undoes the clasp of her shoe, delicately removing it. Red marks bite into her skin where her shoe strap was, as well as the back of her ankle.

Her soles feel especially sore, and Lucette figures that her mid-heels hadn’t helped in that regard.

Fritz regards her feet with shock. “You’ve been walking around like this? Princess, this must have hurt!”

“I didn’t think it was this bad.” Lucette says, equally surprised. Her feet had hurt, but they did take enough breaks in between their walks that the pain would ease before it got to an unbearable level. She had just thought of it as a side effect of hard labour, like when she helped out at Marchen.

Fritz carefully runs a hand across the marks. Lucette instinctively tries to move her leg away at the spark of pain.

“I’m sorry. I should have noticed.” Fritz says sorrowfully, words swollen with guilt.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Lucette replies. She shifts uncomfortably. She didn’t want Fritz to beat himself up over something as insignificant as this.

“Still.” Fritz insists. Suddenly, his posture straightens, recalling something. He quickly reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a crumpled handkerchief, brandishing it with triumph.

He gently puts Lucette’s foot back on the ground, standing up. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Fritz walks towards the river just beside, soaking the handkerchief. Twisting it dry, he walks back towards Lucette with a hopeful glint in his eye. He gets on one knee, gently lifting and placing her left foot on his propped leg.

“It isn’t much, but this should help ease the pain a little.”

The cool, wet cloth feels like balm on Lucette’s irritated skin. The pain slowly extinguishes, the spiking soreness Lucette felt now a dull throb.

“It does. Thank you.” Lucette murmurs, relieved.

Fritz simply smiles back at her.

He repeats the motions a few times, before moving on to her other foot. At times, he goes back to the river to wash and dampen his handkerchief again.

Fritz is gentle and careful as he wipes her feet, pressing down lightly on redder areas, taking care not to add onto Lucette’s pain. His eyes are focused, concentrating only on her. Now, without the pain to distract her, Lucette begins to feel self-conscious under Fritz’s undivided attention.

 _‘How silly.’_ Lucette thinks, trying to shake herself out of it. _‘It’s just Fritz.’_

As comfortable as she feels with him, as she always is, the way Fritz handles her feet and gazes at her raw skin makes a sense of something odd rise in Lucette.

The way he handles her makes Lucette feel overly precious, as if she were made of glass.

Fragile, easily broken in his grip.

Guilty over how he allowed her to get hurt, guilty over something else, something raw and painful that clouded his eyes and made his touch more gentle than need be.

It’s the same guilt that he had spoken with, red faced and crying, arms shaking as he held her against the dying light of the day.

A guilt that makes him stare at Lucette’s returning touches a little too long; his grins growing weak at the sight of her rare smile.

It’s a peculiar sense of foreboding that unsettles Lucette.

After all, Fritz has never given her a proper answer to her confession; and she’s beginning to wonder if he won’t, or if he can’t allow himself to.

Still, when Fritz touches her like this, tender and caring, Lucette can’t help but want more.

She doesn’t want to hurt Fritz by questioning him, but she doesn’t want him to continue burying his feelings within himself, either.

Not guilt, nor love.

Lucette thinks, knows, that it’s too terribly sad, to live a life deceiving oneself.

And Fritz was the last person she’d ever want to subject that sort of living on.

So, taking a deep breath, Lucette decides that it’s now or never.

“Fritz.”

He looks up, and Lucette’s heart clenches at the way he gazes at her, straightforward yet not.

Before Lucette gets a chance to ask anything, she feels a slight drop on her shoulder. Touching the spot on her dress, Lucette finds it wet.

“...Did you feel something, Fritz?” Lucette asks instead.

Fritz blinks, not understanding. He’s about to reply negatively, when his hand shoots up onto the top of his head. Raising his eyes towards the sky, Fritz stares at it in disbelief.

“Princess, I think it might be -.”

A sudden patter of rain finishes his sentence. Both look at each other with incredulity.

Rain? After nearly two whole weeks of clear skies? Right when they had no shelter, and Lucette was about to say one of the most important things she thinks she might ever say in her life?

The heavens must have a grudge against her.

“Princess, please forgive my impudence.”

One moment Lucette is sitting upon a rock questioning her life, and the next, she’s in Fritz’s arms, being whisked away from the river. She lets out a very unprincess like yelp, and immediately throws her arms around Fritz’s neck.

With the drizzle quickly turning into a downpour, Fritz is given no time to explain, only to act. Shelter was a top priority, and with Lucette’s feet, being carried _was_ their best option at escaping the rain as fast as possible.

If not for the situation that lead up to the carry, Lucette thinks she might actually have allowed herself to enjoy being held this way.

As the rain pours down mercilessly, Fritz runs guided by his instincts, never stopping to take a breath, boots splashing into the quickly forming puddles by his feet.

In his arms, Lucette cannot tell what direction Fritz is running towards, where he might even be trying to go. Furthermore, the pelting raindrops only serves to worsen their vision, and Lucette can barely even see what lies before them. All she can do is hold on tight and trust that Fritz knows where he’s going.

Eventually, Lucette can makes out the silhouette of a dark shape in the distance. As they get closer, she realises that it’s the outline of an abandoned hut, worn down and breaking apart.

Fritz doesn’t hesitate, barrelling into the hut with a gasped, “Pardon our intrusion!”.

Apart from the dull creaks of the door, no other sounds are heard in reply.

As Lucette had expected, the hut is devoid of any life. Still, she’s acutely aware that this must have been a fairy’s abode. Who knows what spells still lingered, that might be triggered by the witch and cursed duo?

But the roof isn’t leaking, and the rain outside only grows worse.

With a heavy heart, Lucette realises that this is their only option, no matter how dangerous it might be.

Fritz lets her down gently, and Lucette lands on the balls of her feet. Upon coming into contact barefeet with the floor, she grimaces. Thankfully, Lucette spots her shoes dangling by Fritz’s left hand.

“I suppose we’ll have to hide out here for now.” Fritz states, pushing his dripping bangs away from his face, before wiping the underside of his chin with his soaked sleeve.

“We probably shouldn’t touch anything.” Lucette says, looking around. “It might be enchanted, like the rest of the forest.”

Fritz nods briskly. “You’re right.” Automatically, his hand falls back onto his sword. “Ah, right. Princess, your shoes.”

He’s about to hand them back to Lucette, when he realises that she can’t put them on comfortably while standing. Looking around for a place to sit, Fritz spots a bed by the wall to their left.

Walking towards it, he carefully places a hand on the mattress. It’s surprisingly well taken care of, with nary a bug or speck of dust to be seen.

“How odd.” Fritz mutters, prompting Lucette to pop up beside him.

“What is it?”

“This place isn’t dirty at all.”

Taking a proper look at the place, Lucette realises that Fritz is right. Despite the little furniture in the tiny hut, they were all sparkling clean, instead of covered with layers of dust and mud from years without use.

“Fairy magic, probably.” Lucette says. The unease in her grows, and combined with the cold, wet clothes sticking to her, she can’t help shivering. She has to put the back of her hand over her mouth to prevent her teeth from chattering.

Worry tugs at Fritz’s frown at Lucette’s shivering form. “Princess, take off the cloak for a moment.”

Lucette stares at Fritz blankly. It was the only thing keeping her warm, what did he mean take it off?

“I just want to ascertain something. I promise i’ll return it immediately.”

Reluctantly, Lucette hands the piece of fabric over. Fritz gives it a long hard look, smoothing a hand down it’s surface. Then his expression changes, and turning his back to Lucette, he gives it a few hard flings.

Even with his flapping the cloak the other way, some backwind is still sent toward Lucette, making her shivering worse.

“Sorry, it must have been colder without it.” Fritz apologises, turning back and immediately wrapping the cloak around Lucette. He doesn’t bother with the cloak clasps, instead tucking the extra length over Lucette’s shoulders so no part of her remains uncovered by the material.

“I figured the outside fabric of the cloak was mostly waterproof, so I tried to get rid of most of the water still clinging on the cloak so it could better keep you warm.” Fritz explains.  

“How did you know?” Lucette asks.

“...Because if it were me, that’s how I would have made it.” Fritz replies, a soft smile on his face.

There’s a momentary pause as both parties allow the statement to sink in.

“Anyway.” Fritz speaks again, turning back towards the bed. “There doesn’t seem to be any malignant magic placed over the bed, so you can take a rest first. I’ll take a look around to see if there’s any spare blankets or firewood we can use to warm ourselves.”

As Lucette sits down, he hands her her shoes. Before taking her shoes, Lucette reaches out to grab Fritz’s wrist. She looks at him in the eye as she speaks.

“Be careful.”

His confident smile returns as he replies affirmatively. Lucette lets go unwillingly, knowing that Fritz wouldn’t be able to rest easy until he could survey the area himself.

Watching Fritz walk around, Lucette observes that the hut doesn’t appear to have any other rooms apart from the one they were currently in. Perhaps that explained why a dining table with two chairs, a bed, and a rocking chair were all crammed in a singular room.

There was a heath by the far wall behind the table, but no firewood was to be found. Fritz had been tempted to use the furniture as tinder, but Lucette had strongly objected. She didn’t want to stick around to try and find out what might happen if they burnt a fairy’s belonging, even abandoned as it was.

Returning back to the bed, Fritz was just as unaccomplished as when he had began.

“I’m sure you’ve seen, but there’s nothing useful here.” Fritz says, a hand on his hip. “It’ll do as a temporary shelter, though. The roof is holding up quite well.”

“We got quite lucky, finding this hut in time.” Lucette says, looking up at the ceiling. The pattering of raindrops against the wood is heard clearly, resounding in the house.

“...To be honest, princess, i’ve always known of this place’s existence. I’m just surprised it ended up being so close to us, and even allowed us in.” Fritz says sheepishly.

Lucette looks back at Fritz, surprised. “So you’ve been here as well?”

“I’ve seen it before, yes.” Fritz confirms. “As a child, I would see this place pop up from time to time when I came to the forest. It gave me a bad feeling, so I never entered it.”

The eerie connotation of Fritz’s words drapes itself over the duo, as does the chill that the rain brings with it. Even wrapped under the thick cloak, Lucette feels her shivering grow worse.

Seeing that, Fritz braces himself. “Princess. I’m afraid i’m going to have to go against your wishes. I’ll start a fire with the furniture as firewood, after all.”

A swell of anxiety rises in Lucette. She hadn’t seen much fairy magic in action, but she doesn’t doubt that it can be just as vicious as a witch’s when intended to be. “But Fritz, it could be dangerous.”

“No buts, princess.” Fritz says firmly. “I cannot watch you freeze.”

Briskly, he walks towards the table. Taking one of the chairs, Fritz murmurs an apology before bringing it down against his knee.

Lucette braces herself for a blast of magic, maybe even a shock impact from a protective spell, but no such reactions follow.

Just a thankfully anti climatic dull crack, and splintered wood that litters the floor.

Fritz continues taking the chair apart easily, until it’s nothing but individual slabs of wood. Satisfied, he brings it to the heath, layering the thicker pieces at the bottom, and tossing a few smaller pieces on top. Taking the flint and metal clasp from his back pocket, he tries to dry it the best he can before striking them.

Lucette moves off the bed, walking toward Fritz. He strikes once, twice, then miraculously, a spark flies and ignites one of the further pieces of wood. Carefully, Fritz uses another piece to nudge the tiny flame toward the rest of the improvised tinder.

Lucette sits on her knees the whole time, watching the fire catch on. Fritz slowly feeds it more wood, and soon enough they have a decent sized fire crackling delightfully before them.

“I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” Is the first thing that tumbles out of Lucette. Grateful she is for the fire, but even more so that Fritz remained unharmed. She gazes at Fritz, reaching out a hand to wrap over his own.

She doesn’t quite know how to communicate her relief, that no magic was cast, that they would be safe here for the night, that Fritz isn’t going to be taken away from her any time soon.

At least not by any means related to fairy magic.

In the dim firelight, Fritz hesitates, eyes flickering with an emotion that disappears into the darkness as quickly as it appeared at Lucette’s touch.

“I’m just doing as I should, princess.” He says softly, distantly. He doesn’t hold Lucette’s hand, not this time.

“Move closer to the flames. You should warm up easier that way.” He continues, carefully dislodging his hand from beneath Lucette’s to press against her back, nudging her forward.

As she shuffles forward, Fritz makes slight movements to shift to the side. But before he can, Lucette reaches out to grab his arm. “Stay. You shouldn’t have to catch a cold because of me.”

Caught by Lucette’s insistent gaze, Fritz can only agree.

Together, they sit before the fire, allowing the slowly rising heat to warm them up. The fire burns easily but slowly, and often Fritz has to poke at it with a spare piece of wood to encourage it to grow.

Silence stretches between both, not quite knowing what to say.

Lucette longs to lean against Fritz, but her fear of him pulling again once more runs too deep.

 _‘One step forward, two steps back’_. Lucette thinks with chagrin.

Her desire to question Fritz hasn’t faded, but she thinks it might be unfair, to ask him difficult questions when he cannot escape. Especially when she doesn’t know what sort of hurt does the answer entail.

So in the silence they sit, both absorbed in their own thoughts and feelings far too fragile to share with the other.

“Achoo!”

The sudden break of silence prompts Lucette to swivel her head toward Fritz, who rubs his nose furiously.

“Pardon.” Fritz mutters, with an embarrassed smile.

“Are you cold, Fritz?” Lucette asks, concerned. The fire certainly was doing a decent job warming them up, but at its size and limited firewood, it could only do so much. Besides, the warmth didn’t negate how their clothes were already wet to begin with.

“Better than before.” Fritz says, carefully edging around his answer. But his teeth sunken into his bottom lip and his hand not-so-discreetly rubbing against his arm gives him away.

Unravelling the thick cloak around her, Lucette opens it up lengthwise, rewrapping half of it around herself. The other half she stretches out with one arm, beckoning at Fritz.

“We can share the cloak. It’ll be warmer that way.” Lucette says.

“Princess, I couldn’t!” Fritz says, flustered.  

“Fritz.” Lucette’s voice leaves no room for argument. Fritz visibly wilts, as he slowly inches closer. Crossing his legs, he takes the other half of the cloak from Lucette’s hand, wrapping it around his shoulder.

Lucette doesn’t miss the way he sinks into the material, residual body warmth and the velvet offering him comfort. She tucks herself against Fritz to close the gap he’s left, rolling her eyes at the way he stiffens.

“I don’t want a draft to pass through between us.” Lucette says, partly truthful.

“Oh.” Is Fritz’s soft answer.

Silence dominates the room once more, but this time it’s more peaceful, less strained with unspoken words.

“I don’t think the rain will stop anytime soon.” Lucette says quietly.

“You’re most likely right.” Fritz agrees. “We’ll probably have to spend the night here.”

“Hmm.” Lucette murmurs, leaning her head against Fritz’s shoulder. Fritz doesn’t lean back, but he does relax by a smidge.

“Fritz, how much of the forest can you remember now?” Lucette asks.

“Most of it. I know most areas, but we’d be here for another few weeks before we found them all, at the rate the forest is shifting.” Fritz says, absentmindedly prodding at the fire.

Surprisingly, Lucette finds herself okay with the prospect of being stuck here for longer than intended, if it meant that she would be free to spend her time with Fritz always.

It’s a pleasant daydream, even with her responsibilities towards her kingdom and family gnawing at her, a constant reminder of that impossibility.

“Do you want to find it all?” Lucette continues asking, entertaining the much more fanciful and out of character part of herself, if only for a moment. If only because she knows Fritz would never judge her for it.

“No.” Fritz replies, immediately. “Not now, at least. Because you have places you have to be, and it wouldn’t do at all if I took you away from them because of a moment’s fancy.”

Lucette turns her head toward Fritz’s shoulder, burying her face in it. She hates and loves in equal measures his practicality, the way he can so easily read her, the way he’s always putting her first.

She wants to tell him that, as well as how much she owes him for staying by her side despite it all, how much she cares, and how much she wants him to trust her with his secrets as much as she would hers with him.

Lucette just wants to tell Fritz how much she adores him, how much she loves him, for the things he is, the things he isn’t.

But she finds the words muddling themselves in her mind, stuck in her throat with a butterfly-propelled anxiety; all that is clear to her is that she wants to stay by his side, forever. She just wishes she could find the words, the courage, to express that.

“You do know me best, after all.” Lucette eventually decides on, with a small smile. “Thank you, Fritz.”

With the rain in the background, the crackling of the fire before her, and Fritz’s warmth tucked against her own, Lucette cannot help feeling sleepy.

Her eyelids droop, and soon she finds herself half-asleep, although still sentient to the sounds around her.

Quietly, Fritz wraps an arm around Lucette’s middle, pulling her closer. Lucette sighs, and in the glow of the fire, Fritz allows himself a gentle, heartbreaking smile.

“No, thank _you_ , Princess.” He whispers, just loud enough for Lucette to catch. “I - I really don’t deserve you.”

Hearing that self-deprecating tone from Fritz is new to Lucette, and would have jolted her right out of her sleep, had it not been so soft she nearly lost it to the white noise around.

She wants to open her eyes, cradle Fritz’s face and pepper it with kisses until he tells her why, why does he speak with such guilt, such hate about himself.

Why he thinks he doesn’t deserve her, when he’s been the only one by her side this whole time when she always thought she was alone.

Why does he only take such a sad, sad, tone when he speaks of his love for her, as if it was something taboo, something he would never allow himself to have.

The questions swirl in Lucette’s mind, but the day’s toil weighs her mind down, back into the darkness of sleep.

But before she can, her hand finds Fritz’s to give it a comforting squeeze.

She doesn’t know if the silent gesture conveys anything at all.

Still, as she truly loses herself to the throes of sleep, she feels Fritz leans back against her.

And his quiet, longing sigh sweeps her to sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Fritz next moves, the sky is still dark.

Having only fallen into a light slumber, Lucette is instantly roused when the man tries to move his arm.

“You’re up early.” Lucette mumbles.

“I just wanted to take a walk.” Fritz replies, removing his arm around Lucette. He pats her head comfortingly. “I’ll start a fire again before I leave, so you can continue sleeping. I’ll be back soon.”

Lucette’s arm grabs hold of Fritz’s sleeve before he can move away.

“No."

There’s a strange note to his voice, that twists the manner he speaks into false kindness, a gentle lie. It’s a sound that tells Lucette that if she were to let Fritz go right now, even if he returned, the man she knows and loves wouldn’t be coming back to her.

“I’ll go with you.” Lucette says, pulling herself to her feet. Fritz rises with her, and the cloak falls to the floor.

But with the sparking energy in the air, the rising tension, Lucette cannot feel the cold at all.

A conflicted look flashes past Fritz’s face, but he eventually nods. “I’ll be waiting for you outside, then.”

Lucette watches Fritz silently leave, the door clicking behind him. But she isn’t worried, not like before.

Picking up the cloak, she refastens it around her shoulders with the clasps, then puts her shoes back on before joining Fritz outside.

The cool morning air hits her face almost instantly, biting her nose and the tips of her ears. Her toes curl in her shoes, but she takes another step forward anyway, to where Fritz waits.

Spotting her, Fritz smiles and holds out his hand. But his movements are awkward. Almost unsure of whether it’s the right action to take.

“Shall we go?”

Lucette takes his hand like it’s second nature, as she wants it to be. She curls her fingers around his hand, feeling the rough burn scars, the protruding callouses from gripping a sword too tight.

It’s a familiar sensation by now, one that’s reminded her time and time again of where her home is, where love is found and where it always can be.

This is the hand that protected her. This is the hand that protects her.

Lucette grips it tight, and promises herself not to let go, as the owner of the hand always has promised himself the same.

“We shall.”

 

* * *

 

The trek is quiet, and the forest doesn’t offer any respite, either. The only thing to be heard are their feet against the ground, soft from rain.

Lucette doesn’t know where they’re going, where Fritz is leading her. She will follow Fritz, but will not dance to this melancholic tune he has set.

She has long since grown tired of having to settle for what only leaves one in despair.

In the stillness of the cusp of day and night, Lucette thinks she should feel afraid, of the things that are to come, that have not yet come.

Of the way of which Fritz speaks, low and pained and filled with bittersweet tenderness.

Of the warnings Varg has told her of, which she realises will soon come to be.

Of the outcome of this terrible, sad curse, separating two that were meant to be one.

But all that fills Lucette is steady calmness.

She is still unsure of her answer, of whether it is considered good or right. Still, this time, Lucette has a choice made, her heart set.

 _‘It’s difficult’,_ Lucette thinks, _‘to have to think for another person, to love and care for them unconditionally.’_

But it didn’t mean that she disliked being troubled over such a fortunate thing.

Once, she would have thought so, that to be inconvenienced and frustrated by problems not her own was a fate worse than death.

But now, with Fritz’s hand warm in hers, Lucette thinks that that’s wrong, after all.

Being hurt from caring too much was a much better pain that being hurt from closing oneself off from the world, from believing that weakness was born from love.

The eerie forest still unsettles Lucette, as does Fritz’s vacant stare, but she no longer fears it.

Not when she knows that her fear was just something born from a lack of understanding.

Looking at the scenery before her, Lucette realises that they’re coming to the edge of the forest, about to break through to another clearing.

To her utmost surprise, a gust of flower scented breeze cascades past her the moment she sets foot past the edge. Petals scatter into the air, crisp in the cold morning.

Lucette blinks at the flower field before her eyes. Fritz continues leading her forward, and she follows, looking all around her as she does.

It was the exact same one that they’d been to, Lucette realises with a start. All the locations they’d passed by so far made a perfect round.

 _‘A complete circle.’_ Lucette thinks, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

Fritz guides her to the centre of the clearing, where the peak of the slight hill also was. He stands, stock still, looking over the area.

Lucette stands beside Fritz without a word, despite the turbulence of questions whirling inside her.

Deep blues and slight reds blend into the field, covering their feet with blankets of vivid shades. The sky starts to lose its darkness slowly, as the sun began its slow ascend.

“I remember,” Fritz says suddenly, “Everything about this place.”

Lucette looks at him, at the way he stares off into the distance, gaze sharp and focused.

“It was my escape. My only repose, from everything that i’d been through. But I wasn’t sad. I was just...numb. I was tired out from having to face my father and his daily apathy. I was tired out from being confined by my mother, who loved me too much yet too little.

“So I ran away, until I could find the courage to return a person who would be loved, properly. And I did. I found that courage through swordsmanship and being a knight. I found companionship, trust, and loyalty. I found a person I wanted to be.

“But I still couldn’t find myself.”

Fritz tilts his head down, pressing half of his face into his hand. His one visible eye is blown wide, his other hand a tight fist by his side.

“Not matter how hard I tried, I could never find the one thing to fill that gaping hole I would always feel in my chest. There was a part of me that constantly remained empty, no matter what I filled it with. I wasn’t _complete._ I couldn’t be, because I - I didn’t want to be. I was too scared to be, to return to this forest and _remember_ who I was that I made myself forget.

“And in the midst of this denial, princess, I did something unforgivable. I - I’m someone that should know best, what it means to lose a part of yourself. What it means to feel cold and missing and _aching._ And yet when I saw you, princess, I -.”

Fritz takes a shuddering breath. “I pitied you.”

His voice is utterly hollow, ashamed and weak.

“When I was first assigned to you, I was kind because I thought even if I was empty, at least I was - I was loved. While you weren’t. So I pitied you, for not having the pillar that even I did. My kindness wasn’t good, princess. It was cruel and inhumane. I treated you like you were somehow less than I was, when you are anything _but._

“You are so, so much more than a princess to be pitied, and I realised it, quickly. You show your strengths so easily, so smoothly. In the ways you hold yourself, in the ways you live. I grew to admire you, and eventually my kindness and desire to be your friend came from my heart. But is it of any real use, when my initial intentions were so unkind?”

Fritz bunches his fringe in his hand, face crumpling. He takes an unsteady step backwards.

“And then I fell in love with you. With your strength to survive even depending on no one but yourself, with your individuality, with your determination to stand tall no matter the adversity. I wanted to protect you, to love you as you deserved to be. I wanted to shower you with love that you’d never had a chance to experience. I wanted to be the one always be by your side. I wanted to be the only one you wanted, too. Even though I knew all these desires began from pity, I still wanted to love you.

“That’s why when you confessed to me, I couldn’t bring myself to reject you.”

“I’m selfish.” Fritz continues, covering his face, voice breaking at the edges. “I wanted your love, even if it was only for a day. Even when I knew I didn’t deserve it. Even when I knew my love wasn’t pure. I can’t be your knight in shining armour, princess. I’m not even worthy to be your knight.

“No one as selfish as me can be.”

Without another word, Lucette runs forward, hugging Fritz’s back. It’s cold, chillingly so. The difference in temperature between her and him makes her want to cry, almost.

All at once, she understands the guilt, the hurt and the pain that Fritz has kept a secret for so, so long.

Fraying at the edges, desperately trying to hold together a person he doesn’t know by his willpower alone; a person who wanted so badly to love, yet was weighed down by an unspeakable, self-constructed tragedy.

“That’s not true.” Lucette says, pressing her cheek between his shoulder blades. “That’s not true at all, Fritz.”

“Your love may have been born out of pity, but they didn’t remain that way. And I loved you for that, Fritz. That you saw past who I tried so hard to be, and saw me for who I really was inside. That you were the only one who saw what I could be capable of, and still chose to love me. That’s why I wanted you even before I knew it, Fritz. Your selfishness _saved me._ ”

Lucette stops, taking in a soft breath. Fritz’s back is shaking, and Lucette has no doubt that his lips must be trembling from an effort not to cry. So she holds him even tighter, curling her hands into his shirt.

“But that doesn’t ease your guilt at all, does it? Because the one you can’t forgive is yourself, for having such beautiful feelings marred by such an awful one like pity. That’s why I won’t tell you that I forgive you. If I do, i’m sure the guilt will only worsen.”

Lucette thinks of Marchen, of Annice and her healing smile, of her kindness and soothing words.

“Instead, thank you. Thank you for being the only one who saw me as I truly was, who saw the parts in me I hated and told me they were values to cherished. Thank you for staying by me, for trusting me even when I couldn’t see anything in myself worthy of trust. You were the one who taught me how to love myself again, because of your love for me.

“Thank you for finding me time and time again, when I wanted nothing more to be lost. Thank you for loving me enough to feel so guilty about something that you couldn’t even have helped.”

There’s a choked hiccup, and wet drops fall against Lucette’s hands.

“Thank you, for loving me so much that you’d shed tears for me.” Lucette continues, pressing a smile into his back.

“Thank you for letting me love you, and loving me in return.”

Fritz bows his head, openly crying into his palms. His cries echo in the clearing, filling it with years of pain and grief that he’d never allowed himself to express, to even think of, for fear of crumbling beneath the weight of his imagined sins.

Holding fastly onto Fritz, Lucette felt near tears herself, a solemn, relieved sort of cry welling in her.

Fritz was so much harder on himself than he ever had to be.

It was a terrible habit clearly ingrained in him as a child, and it only translated to everything he grew to do as an adult.

From swordsmanship, to his own personal life.

Fritz claimed that Lucette deserved better, but she felt the same way, too.

Still, they were who each other chose. Even if they weren’t the best, the most perfect, they were who the other chose to love.

And really, isn’t that all that mattered?

Amidst his sobs, Lucette thinks Fritz, for once, has let himself be broken apart entirely.

Has allowed himself to splinter and crack and fall and finally, _finally_ , attain a fresh start with the scattered pieces of himself, silver and black both, waiting for him to put them back together again.

Lucette is gentle as she releases her grip on Fritz, in order to move to face him in the front.

She carefully pries his hands away from his tear stained face, dyed burgundy like the field around them.

Dawn breaks, basking the clearing in streaks of dark blue and and blood orange, even tints of pink that show on the lighter parts of the field around them.

Under the brightening sky and the still dark scenery, Fritz looks like a familiar stranger, someone not quite the same as either persona Lucette has come to know him by.

Interlacing her fingers with his, Lucette’s grip is firm and strong. Fritz’s palms are slick with tears, and his fingers are icy to the touch.

But it doesn’t matter, not when Lucette’s own are warm enough for the both of them, for now.

She crouches down for a moment to pluck a flower by her feet, tucking it behind Fritz’s ear.

The dandelion sways in the light breeze, tickling Fritz’s temple.

“You’ve given me more happiness than I can ever account for. Let me have the chance to give you some too, Fritz.”

Fritz looks timidly at Lucette from beneath his eyelashes.

Light cast by the rising sun and the moon that hasn’t quite set catches in Fritz’s frame; the darker shades and the brighter ones alike vibrantly clinging to his silver hair, his long lashes, his tear stained face.

Under the growing light, Fritz looks not yet complete, but so, so alive.

“Stay with me.” Lucette whispers, pressing their bodies flush against one another.

“Is someone like me really alright?” Fritz murmurs, hurt, but still wanting to try.

“Of course.” Lucette says, heart clenching. “I didn’t need a perfect knight, Fritz. I needed _you._ All of you.”

At that, Fritz’s face finally cracks a tiny smile. It’s small, yet contained such infinite joy and wonder.

For once, there isn’t a shadow behind that tender expression she’s come to love so, so much.

Seeing it, Lucette lets her tears fall.

“You finally smiled.” She laughs, soft yet happy.

“I always did, with you.” Fritz replies, leaning over to press his forehead to Lucette’s. One of his hands cups Lucette’s jaw, his thumb tracing the bottom of her cheek. “I always will.”

And when his lips meet Lucette’s, she finally feels that everything might actually turn out alright.


	8. the return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which they all finally live happily ever after
> 
> (and there is no if or but; no conditions attached to their love.)

* * *

 

 

“Princess...do you think it’d work if I pulled this end?”

“No, don’t. Here, hold onto this part, and pull on the other side.”

“Like...this?”

“Then take the other end and pull it.”

“Then I tighten it, right?”

“Yes.”

“...Is this ok, princess?”

“Hm, a little lower.”

“How about now?”

Lucette pauses, touching her bow. It still bends slightly to the right, and is more lopsided than usual, but it’s definitely better than previous attempts.

Fritz is fidgeting in front of her, anxiously awaiting judgement on his attempt at the bow around her neck.

“It’s an improvement.” Lucette concedes.

Ever since yesterday, Fritz had decided to start working on himself from the beginning again.

It wasn’t that he believed he had to earn his position by Lucette’s side. He simply wanted to improve himself such that he would never doubt his place ever again.

“I don’t doubt that you love me, princess.” Fritz had said that morning, leaning his forehead against Lucette’s. “I just worry that I will try and convince myself otherwise. So that’s why I want to become stronger, such that i’ll never have to make you worry again.”

Lucette’s heart had squeezed tightly, touched by his words. She’d quietly smiled, unknowing of how to put her belief in him in words, but the way Fritz had returned the smile and kissed her once more told her he already understood.

Still, Lucette hadn’t expected Fritz’s self-reflecting to begin with his lack of ability with crafts.

“I don’t get it.” Fritz mutters, crossing his arms. His eyes are fixed on Lucette’s bow, brows creased. “Why can’t I tie a proper bow?”

“That’s a question i’d like an answer to, too.” Lucette says, holding up one end of the ribbon. No matter how many times she sees it in action, Fritz’s absurd talent still marvels her.

“I’ll get better.” Fritz promises, with a nod of reassurance.

There really are better things he could spend his time on, but seeing Fritz so determined with his goal makes it hard to dissuade him from achieving it.

“You will.” Lucette says. “But for now, let’s focus on looking for our way out.”

Fritz gives another nod, taking her hand once more.

The cloak rustles around Lucette’s ankles as they begin walking, the morning sun gently beating down above.

“Don’t forget the pebbles.”

Lucette’s fingers curl around the smooth stones in her hand. “I won’t.”

Since yesterday, Lucette and Fritz have been searching for the exit with renewed vigour. In addition to their newfound promise, the lack of news and communication attempts had further spurred them on to finally confront the possible upcoming war headon.

Too shy and overwhelmed by the emotional toil of the morning, both had simply concentrated on trying to find a way out of the complex maze of trees, to the point of near exhaustion. Their efforts did not go unrewarded, as they returned to the alcove that night with the knowledge that if all went well, they would likely find their way out the next day.

One major factor that lead to their success was the fact that the forest road had stopped twisting so much, the space around them warping less often than before. It had actually lead to Lucette’s pebble trail being of use, now a half track toward a possible exit already newly formed.

When they had realised that, both had exchanged looks, the thought of what that represented weighing heavy on their minds, yet neither willing to speak of it.

Neither willing to confront the person who may already be lost.

The thought only further cemented in their minds when Fritz quietly confessed that night that his chest felt much lighter, as if the pressure of the forest that was upon him had almost gone.

The slow terror in his voice as he spoke of that had worried Lucette as much as it had shocked her. How odd that only a few days ago, Fritz had spoken with a completely different tone in regards to his other half.

 _‘It really goes to show,’_ Lucette had thought, _‘How clumsy both of them are in expressing their care for each other.’_

Although Lucette isn’t sure if she had a right in speaking of Fritz and Varg that way, when it was clear as they headed out this morning that both her and Fritz felt too awkward to bring up the events of the previous morning, as well as Varg’s current situation.

Picking the lesser of two evils, Lucette thinks it might be wiser to tackle the more serious issue at hand, first.

“Fritz, is he - is Varg still there?” Lucette asks, the fear almost preventing her from saying his name aloud.

Fritz is silent for a moment, and his grip over Lucette’s hand strengthens. He places his other hand over his chest, deliberating.

“He is.” Fritz quietly confirms. “He isn’t...as present as he was before, but I think he’s doing that on purpose. He seems unwilling to appear, for some reason.”

Fritz smiles wryly. “It’s like a reverse of our previous situation.”

Relief washes over Lucette, as does guilt. She loves Varg, but even without his mask, she cannot deny the surplus of comfort Fritz’s front still offers.

“How ironic.” Lucette says.

Worry about what that entails still bothers her, though.

Thinking about it, Lucette wonders how much of their emotions and memories they actually openly shared. Even if they were the same person, their uncollective memories showed that they had to have another way to pass the events unseen on to the other.

Lucette only hopes she isn’t being too intrusive by asking too much about it.

“Are you able to speak to him?” She asks, tentative.

Fritz seems to sense her hesitance, for he sends an assuring smile her way.

“Kind of? It’s hard to explain, but we technically share the same headspace. It’s a little like talking to yourself, only your self can respond, if it makes sense.” Fritz says, scratching his cheek. “But even though we can, we don’t.”

Lucette doesn’t ask why, since she thinks she might already know. It must still be hard after all, to confront the side of yourself you’d been avoiding for so long, even more so for Fritz than for Varg.

Although Fritz is much more open to speak about Varg now, Lucette can still tell from the way he shifts his eyes and smiles crookedly that he isn’t quite so comfortable about the topic, still.

That he isn’t quite so comfortable with the existence of Varg, still.

“The truth is, I’ve been thinking about your curse, and how we might go about breaking it.” Lucette says, unable to find an easier way to bring it up.

Overthrowing Varg. That had been the only set condition for the curse to break. An overly ambitious goal for someone who had just recognised his own darkness within him.

A nearly impossible task, even for someone who might have lived with the darkness their whole life.

Such a huge part of oneself couldn’t be erased or condemned on one’s whims, after all.

“As I remember you telling me, the requirements were quite specific. And truthfully, princess?” Fritz pauses, the edges of his smile drooping into a tired frown. “Not something I believe I can accomplish before we leave the forest.”

No wonder Fritz looked to burdened any time the subject came up, any time their path back to Marchen grew clearer.

As they neared their escape, they too would near the possibility of a future where one of the three would end up harming the other two.

Even if Lucette wasn’t specified in the curse, her attempted reversal of it and rebellion against her mother would surely not spell a pleasant end for either of them.

Since the wolf was created to hunt down any and all enemies against Hildyr’s cause.

In the worse case scenario, Fritz might end up having Lucette’s blood on his hands.

“I’m sure we’ll find a way.” Lucette says decisively. “Together.”

It wouldn’t do if both of them were to fall victim to negative thoughts. Considering how Fritz was still shaken from yesterday’s very, very hectic whirl of events, it was up to her to remain firm.

“Thank you, princess.” Fritz says in a small voice, angling a grateful smile at her. Then his gaze sharpens, a low burning determination flaring in his golden eyes.

“But if at any moment I pose a threat to you when we return, please do not hesitate to dispose of me. I do not wish to become a burden on you in any form.”

Lucette’s back straightens, her spine stiffening.

“Do not speak like that. I will not allow you to be hurt. Either of you.” Lucette orders, her grip growing unnaturally tight. She glares at Fritz with an anger she hasn’t felt in a long while.

Fritz looks taken aback, but his head eventually dips into a nod. Still, the determined glint in his eye does not fade.

Facing the front once more, Lucette once again strengthens her resolve to fight. She could never bear it if she were to lose Fritz. A life without him by her side was just as bleak.

So even if it would be hard and painful, even if she would be forced to kill the one parent she still wants to believe loves her, she knows she must fight.

Besides, all was not lost. Delora and Parfait were well-versed with curses, too. They might have some tips on how to step around the specifics of the Fairy Tale curse, to break it without losing either persona.

In all, returning to Marchen remained their top priority in order to set things right in Angielle once more.

So lost in her own thoughts, Lucette doesn’t realise that Fritz has stopped walking until he forcefully tugs her hand to a stop.

“Princess. Look up.”

At Fritz’s instruction, Lucette looks and instantly stops in her path.

In the middle of the path stands a large deer, staring directly at them.

Taken aback, the only thing Lucette is able to do is silently stare.

It wears a lucious coat of brown fur and a pair of majestic antlers that appear to stretch towards the heavens, its black eyes boring into Lucette. One of its ears flicks, and Lucette takes a wary step backwards, while Fritz slowly moves to shield her.

As much as she doesn’t want to, Lucette lets go of Fritz’s left hand to allow him easy access to his sword attached to his right hip. With a slow nod, he moves it to rest upon his sword’s hilt.

“It shouldn’t mean any harm, but don’t move.” Fritz murmurs. Lucette clenches her fists above her chest, too afraid of the repercussions to voice her affirmations.

The deer calmly regards the two, never blinking. Then it turns, and slowly trots away, as if the exchange had never happened.

The two continue standing in silence for a beat, before a sudden bout of anxious laughter threatens to erupt from Lucette. Reigning it down to a dignified giggle, Lucette shakes her head, hard.

“That was - terrifying.” Lucette says, pressing a fist over her mouth. She thinks of the bats from before, and shakes her head again. “Why do we have such bad luck with mammals?”

Hearing Lucette’s laugh, Fritz’s face cracks into a large grin as well. “Not just mammals, princess. Remember the snake in the dining hall?”

“Oh, do not remind me.” Lucette groans. One of the gardeners had accidentally let loose a wild snake in the castle, and somehow it’d slithered its way to the dining hall just as Lucette had arrived for lunch.

It had been a wildly entertaining spectacle, seeing the rest of the royal family gathered upon the dining table as she entered through the large double doors. She almost turned and left on the spot.

Fritz ended up cutting the snake’s head off just as it emerged from beneath the table cloth, a lucky strike that had him being praised by the family for weeks.

“We were lucky no one was hurt.” Fritz says, covering his mouth to stifle a chuckle. “You were in high spirits for days.”

“Was I?” Lucette says.

“Yes. Apparently we cannot underestimate how large the power of the royal family being undignified has over cheering you up.” Fritz says, teasing.

“Stop it.” Lucette mutters. It had been a funny sight, but thinking about it now and remembering how mean she was to her step-family made slight guilt turn in her stomach.

“Princess Emelaigne found it funny, too. She confided in me that it was a pity you weren’t there to see Prince Rod’s face.” Fritz continues, squeezing Lucette’s hand.

Trust Fritz to know what to say to make her feel better.

“It must have been a sight.” Lucette says, smiling. “Maybe I should have Emelaigne to tell me about it herself, when we return.”

Fritz’s face brightens, and he turns a wholesome beam towards Lucette.

“I’m sure she will. You really have changed, princess.”

“I suppose I have.” Lucette says thoughtfully, looking at Fritz. “Before, it would have irked me to hear their names. Now...I don’t particularly feel any negativity. I just...feel it would have been nice if I could have gotten the chance to know them, if only so I could understand them, and why they are as they are.”

 _‘Especially Emelaigne.’_ Lucette thinks. She still doesn’t entirely believe anyone could be so kind to their very core, but she now thinks Emelaigne must have her own circumstances that powered her to behave so.

Fritz doesn’t say anything in return. He simply stares at Lucette, a wonderstruck expression on his face. At his lack of response, Lucette feels the embarrassment of saying such heartfelt, uncharacteristic words catching up to her.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Lucette mumbles, looking to the side.

“I was just reminded of how much I love you, that’s all.” Fritz says softly, grinning.

The words make the heat of Lucette’s cheeks so, so much worse, and she wouldn’t doubt if she was turned permanently scarlet by them.

Rendered speechless by Fritz’s straightforwardness, Lucette can only sigh as he leans in to peck her lips.

The kiss is slow, yet deep. Lucette was beginning to realise that Fritz enjoyed taking his time when it came to kissing her, slowly working his way into the recesses of her heart to make her melt.

Maybe that’s why every kiss he gave Lucette made her feel special beyond words.

When they part, they remain gazing at each other for a moment, heavy breaths crossing the small distance between their lips, spellbound.

“A smile really does fit you more, princess.” Fritz says, his own lips quirked in a cheeky smile.

Lucette hits his shoulder playfully.

“We should continue mapping our way.” Lucette says, squishing the stirring in her middle with much effort.

“We should.” Fritz agrees. It still takes him a moment longer than necessary to right himself. He takes Lucette’s hand once more, but this time his hold is stronger.

“Onwards we go.” Fritz says, swinging their connected hands lightly once.

“Onwards we go.” Lucette agrees, his infectious smile making her own lips curve upwards.

For the next few hours, the duo intensively work on mapping their path out. It isn’t as difficult as it is tedious, with the constant need to backtrack and reroute their way.

Eventually, they manage to reach the area where Lucette found herself first lost and where Varg had captured her the first time.

According to their plans, they would leave at the first sign of a possible exit. But their previous discussion about the curse and the safety the fairy forest provided still weighed heavy on their minds.

Fortunately, their supplies hadn’t been kind on them. The fruit had ran out, and both were practically exhausted from the constant walking. Even if they escaped now, Lucette is certain that they wouldn’t last a minute against her mother’s goons or the royal soldiers.

“Shall we put off leaving for now?” Fritz suggests. “We aren’t in our best form, after all. Besides….”

Fritz raises his head towards the sky, eyes squinting at the fierce sun hanging overhead.

“I worry that the Queen may be roaming the streets herself in search of us at this time. I would like not to risk running into her. Travelling tonight under the guise of the dark might prove favourable for our escape to the tavern.”

“You’re right.” Lucette says. “Besides, even under the moonlight, I’m quite sure i’ll be able to lead us out from here and towards Marchen.”

“That settles it, then.” Fritz says. He takes half a step the the left. “I’m sure that we’re closer to the peach tree from here, so shall we head over there first before stopping by the waterfall for a drink?”

“Let’s.” Lucette replies.

Fritz grins, and they begin to walk once more.

Fritz has always been outspoken, but seeing him so much more confident in himself and how it carries into his behaviour is incredible.

That’s why the breaking of the curse worries her so.

If Fritz were to lose a part of himself, surely he would no longer be the same.

Lucette wonders how he might change, what might retain and what might be lost forever.

There’s so many of aspects of Fritz she’s come to love, so many aspects that she already cannot bear the thought of seeing him without.

He wouldn’t lose his core values, his magnanimity, or his unbounding love.

But would he forget what made him that way? What encouraged his kindness, his love for others?

And once he realised that he’d forgotten, would he fall back into a spiral of self-doubt that might shell him out, leaving him empty and unkind?

Lucette’s heart clenches at the thought. It’s far more likely than she wants to admit, having been through it once herself.

Memories and faucets of oneself were what one would build themselves upon - once those were taken away, where did that leave one’s sense of self?

That’s why there must be a different way of breaking a curse. And if there wasn’t, Lucette would forge one herself.

She would never allow someone she loved to suffer while she watched ever again.

Pressing against Fritz’s arm, Lucette glances at him, recalling Varg’s current situation inside.

If Varg was the one hiding away and avoiding the issue this time, she’d drag him out too, like how she made Varg have Fritz front.

Neither of them were going to push the matter aside, not anymore. Certainly not after having chosen a woman like Lucette.

A sweet scent interrupts Lucette’s thoughts. Peering past the trees, Lucette can see that they were nearing a slight clearing where the sun shone through. Soon enough, they closed in on the peach tree.

Putting aside her thoughts on how to best drag Varg out to face their problems, Lucette opts to pluck a peach instead.

“I’m surprised you have no problems with the smell, princess.” Fritz says.

“Did you think I would?” Lucette asks, tilting her head.

“No, just that most people find the sweet smell overly powerful.” Fritz replies, scratching the back of his neck. “But in your case, I assume you like it? Pastries are one of your favourite foods, after all.”

Fritz had hit right on the mark. Sweet fragrances had always been a weak point of Lucette’s, as were sweet foods in general. She supposes it might be due to the fact that she never had a chance to eat very much of them as a child, even more so now as a Crown Princess.

They were one of her favourite guilty pleasures that she’d indulge in all day if she could.

“I just find their fragrance pleasant.” Lucette says. She unties the scrap of fabric around her waist, tying a knot at the top to make a simple carrier, and puts the fruit in.

Looking at her skirt, Fritz sadly smiles. “It’s a pity about your skirt. You liked this dress much better than your royal gowns, didn’t you?”

Lucette brushes a hand over the dirtied white petticoat, thinking of the sky blue outer skirt that now acted as their wrapping cloth for the fruit.

“I did.” Lucette says, somewhat forlornly. It was her first...gift, she could put it, upon reaching Marchen. Besides, it had been her favourite colour. “How did you know?”

Fritz shrugs. “You just looked much more comfortable in this one than any of your other dresses in the palace. I noticed since this wasn’t tailor made, and yet you seemed to prefer it so much more.”

Fritz touches the wrapping cloth, smiling. “And it’s made in your favourite colour. Another difference from your usual gowns.”

“You remembered.” Lucette says.

“Of course.” Fritz puffs out his chest. “I wouldn’t forget a single thing about you that you’ve told me.”

“Really now?” Lucette hums, half-teasing. She reaches out to for another peach, but Fritz captures her hand before she can.

“Really.” Fritz says, smiling, tangling their fingers together.

“ _Fritz_.”

As sweet as the moment was, they really should get their objective done first. Lucette’s pointed look and exasperated smile conveyed as much.

Anyway, Lucette doesn’t think him flirting with her too much goes good things to her heart rate. Her heart palpitations have been growing increasingly worse around Fritz lately, and she’s yet to decide if its a good, or even normal, thing yet.

But her insides feel warm with Fritz’s every remark, so she guesses it might be fine. Still, Lucette thinks she might have Annice take a look at her when they returned to Marchen.

Fritz lets loose a sheepish laugh, releasing Lucette’s hand to allow her to continue with the task, and to help her as well.

As Lucette continued picking fruit, she couldn’t help her mind wandering on the topic of dresses. Why _had_ her style of dress been so unlike her, anyway?

“I was probably trying to emulate my mother.” Lucette says aloud, realising. “Maybe even to try and keep some part of her alive, inside me.”

Fritz blinks at the sudden brought up topic, then his eyes soften. “But you don’t have to anymore.”

Lucette stares at the freshly picked peach in her hand.

She thinks of everything that transpired during the past two weeks, the trials and tribulations she’d cleared all on her own.

At all the things she’d accomplished, just fine without any guidance.

Just by being herself.

“No, I don’t.” Lucette says, stuffing the peach into the wrapping cloth with a smile.

By the time they fill the wrapping cloth full of fruit, it’s already the late afternoon.

Lucette gazes at the low hanging sun. They had just enough time to stop by the waterfall before returning, while still having ample time to set up a fire and settle down before it got too dark.

Just as she’s about to suggest that, when Lucette realises that Fritz has been silent for quite a while. In fact, he wasn’t even beside her like he was a moment ago.

Turning around, Lucette finds Fritz a few steps behind, with an open palm pressed over his chest, brows furrowed. His gaze is directed at the soil beneath his feet, the other hand by his side clenching and unclenching.

Lucette frowns. “Fritz?”

His name startles the man into reacting. Fritz turns his eyes toward Lucette, a tiny, awkward smile quickly tacked on his face. It’s one that Lucette recognises he uses when he doesn’t want her to worry.

“Sorry princess. You can go to the waterfall first, I need to -.” Fritz winces, before continuing. “I need to speak with Varg. I’ll go somewhere else. He doesn’t seem keen on communicating with you around.”

Lucette feels her heart lurch, the wrapping cloth digging into the palm of her shaking fist.

“I understand.” Lucette says, even though she doesn’t, not really. Even though her heart feels like it’s being wrung out. “But i’ll wait here. Don’t go too far.”

“I’ll be by the -.” Fritz pauses again. “Flower field.”

Lucette nods.

Then with another smile, Fritz walks off.

Watching the back of Fritz’s figure fade into the distance, an unsettling feeling she thought had gone returns like a tidal wave.

What was it that Varg wanted to speak with Fritz about that he didn’t want Lucette around for?

The more Lucette thought about it, the more worrisome the matter felt like to her. There was hardly any secrets between her and Fritz, by now. Even if there were, Fritz would have told her that it was on his behalf, not Varg’s, that he wanted space alone.

So that must mean that it was Varg who was keeping secrets, or at least had something he didn’t want Lucette knowing.

The thought sends an unpleasant chill down her spine. It feels more foreboding than it does betrayal.

Lucette trusts Varg. Lucette trusts in his promise to remain by her side for as long as she desired him to be.

But Lucette as knows of his hard headedness, his uncanny likeness with Fritz in the way both would rather hurt themselves than her any day of the week, in the way both would make decisions that often lead to awful consequences they would bear in Lucette’s place.

Because to them, Lucette had taken on far too much for her lifetime.

But that wasn’t their decision to make.

Lucette takes a deep breath.

It was hers.

Lucette raises her head towards the sky, gazing at the sun once more. Enough time has passed of her waiting for Fritz that it's already nearing sunset.

She basks in the rays for a second, before taking a step in the direction of the flower field.

Her path is dyed golden and orange, with broad strokes of red under certain shade. It’s stunning and scary all at once, incredulous in it’s beautiful climax and terrifying in a way that endings of a story always feel like.

Traversing the quiet path alone, Lucette reflects on how short a time they’ve been here, and how long it felt like.

They’d spent around two and a half weeks in the forest, talking, walking, crying and talking some more.

But it isn’t enough. So short a time, no matter how much was spent beside each other, could never be enough to delve into all the hurt both of them had experienced, had kept in themselves for years.

So many things had unravelled, secrets, Varg, Fritz, Lucette herself. Still, she longs to bare more to Fritz, to tell him her darkest worries, her brightest dreams, to offer him her heart, scarred as it was.

Still, she longs for Fritz to want the same, to stay by her side, looking alive both under the sun and in the dark.

Still, she longs for Fritz and Varg both, for the person of them both never allowed to exist.

These thoughts are wonderful, Lucette knows. It’s so, so, heart wrenchingly validating to be wanted as one was, as one had lived, no matter how dirtily.

But they’re all useless thoughts to be discarded, if they were never voiced aloud.

They occupy Lucette’s mind, white noise buzzing in her ears. She isn’t running this time, but her breath comes constricted from nerves all the same.

But this time, she isn’t blindly running, hoping for hope.

This time, Lucette leaves none of herself behind, and walks with a steady gait, filled with hope for a future she will allow herself to have.

When she cuts through the edge of the forest, the sun doesn’t blind her. It illuminates the clearing instead, casting an orange hue to everything it touches.

Lucette steps forth into the light, and allows herself again, to feel alive in it.

The first thing she sees is Varg in the middle of the clearing, staring back at her.

When he catches her eyes, he smiles, soft and kind in the way she has come to love with Fritz.

Never once moving her eyes from Varg, Lucette slowly makes her way forward, until she stands before him.

In Varg’s hands is a withered flower crown, that already lost some of its dandelions at certain parts of the chain.

“Long time no see, princess.” Varg says.

“Long time no see.” Lucette returns. “Although it’s only been around forty minutes.”

Varg’s smile widens. “Has it?”

“Fritz was only gone for so long.” Lucette says. One of her hands curl around the edge of his cloak, still wrapped around her.

“So he was.” Varg laughs, leaning his head to one side.

The sun is casts elongated shadows over his frame, lifts his black attire into a brighter shade. His smile feels like it's sinking midway into the darkness, about to be swallowed whole and never returned.

“You had something you wanted to tell him.” Lucette says, straight to the point.

Varg’s smile fades at the corners. “Not really. There has never been anything up for discussion.”

“What do you mean?” Something awful begins tearing at Lucette’s insides.

“I mean, i’ve always been able to make my own decisions, regardless of Fritz’s blessings or not. And it isn’t going to stop now.” Varg says, shrugging a shoulder.

“I said, what do you mean?” Lucette says, fiercer. She would have grabbed hold of Varg’s lapels, if it were not for the sudden return of the dangerous glint in his eye.

But who that danger was directed towards, Lucette cannot tell.

Silence wraps itself around the two, nearly suffocating. Varg’s piercing golden eyes have never once left Lucette’s.

Yet Lucette feels no fear. Only a sense of profound sadness she cannot understand.

“Princess, these past few days, was he happy?” Varg asks, suddenly.

Lucette blinks. Fritz had told her he’d been sharing memories with Varg, so he should know. But she realises there must be some form of twisted symbolism in the way he wants her to say it, so she does, past the growing lump in her throat.

“He was.”

Varg’s form relaxes. He turns a quiet smile towards his hands, towards the dried up flower crown.

“I’m glad. He deserves it, you know. And much, much more.” Varg murmurs, words filled with such raw honesty it makes Lucette’s heart hurt, for some odd reason.

Then Varg takes a long, shuddering breath, before looking back at Lucette.

“Princess. You already know I am made of Fritz’s darkness. I am what binds him to his past, that makes him tear himself apart anytime he remembers what had come to pass. I am also the only danger that makes him fear himself. That poses a threat in what both of you will face together.”

Varg takes Lucette’s face with one hand, a lopsided, untruthful smile hanging on his lips.

“That’s why i’ll be saying goodbye.”

Lucette’s breath stops. This time, she does reach out and snatch Varg by the vest, a silent command for him to stay.

“What do you _mean?”_ Lucette repeats again, helplessness and anger clear in her tone.

“We’ve all been wrong, princess.” Varg continues, ignoring Lucette’s death grip. He stares blankly back at her, the hollow smile still on his face. “We’ve all been trying to paint a pretty picture about Little Red Riding Hood’s story, about how they could all still achieve happiness. But that was based on the assumption that we each took on a role in the story.

“In reality, there has only ever been Fritz. He’s both the protagonist and the antagonist. He’s the only one who can save himself. That’s why i’m the only one who can save _him._ I am just the Fairy Tale curse, my princess. Without me, there will still be Fritz. There always was.”  

Varg traces the underside of Lucette’s eye with a thumb, wonder and fondness written clearly all over his features. Still his smile is a painful rendition of his usual confident smirks, still his words are softer than any other he’s ever spoken.

The back of Lucette’s eyes begin to sting.

“No, not him. Not entirely.” Lucette says strongly. Her hold on Varg tightens.

Lucette hears the soft sound of petals hitting the grass, and as Varg’s other hand comes up to hold the other side of her face, she realises belatedly that he’s let go of the flowers.

“There was never any other option for me.” Varg murmurs to himself. “He could never break the curse any other way.”

His smile grows stronger, less broken. But it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You’ve given me so much happiness, my princess.” Varg says, leaning forward to brush their noses against one another. “So allow me to give you yours. Allow me to give you and Fritz what i’ve deprived the both of you of for years.”

“Varg, no.” Lucette argues. She so badly wants to cry, but she knows if she starts, she surely won’t stop. And she can’t cry now, not when there’s so many things left unsaid. “You _promised_ you wouldn’t leave me. I need you. _Fritz_ needs you.”

The setting sun turns the scenery a dull purple hue, oranges leaking through the broken seams of the dusk sky. Deep blues and violets stain the clearing, the sharp angles of Varg’s face, a melancholic chill soaking his smile.

“Sorry princess.” Varg grins, showing his teeth. “I’m just not one for promise-keeping.”

Lucette wants to shout, to shake Varg until he listens to reason, to what his tearing heart must be yelling at him to stay. But his shadow has already begun eating at his feet, churning its way up his legs.

“Stop it, Varg. Don’t do it. Don’t _go._ ” Lucette pleads, a near-sob breaking her voice apart.

Lucette doesn’t understand completely what he means when he says goodbye, when he says he can break the curse.

All Lucette knows is this is not the way she wanted her happiness.

“Delora and Parfait, they can help! You can’t give up, not when we’re so close. There must be some other way to break the curse.” Lucette fights. Her fingers hurt from holding on too tight, the fabric scratching her white-hot knuckles. “I don’t want this, Fritz doesn’t want this! Stop playing the martyr!”

Varg laughs, but it rings emptily with none of the mirth he used to wear like a cloak.

“You don’t get a say in this either, princess.” Varg says, low and humoured. “No one but me does.”

He presses a hand over Lucette’s eyes, the other on the nape of her neck. His hands are far too cold, far too frozen than she’s ever known.

She grips at his hand over her eyes, trying in vain to pull it off.

“Just miss me from time to time, okay?”

His soft whisper is the last thing Lucette can hear before the familiar coldness of the shadows covers Varg’s hands, permeating her skin, turning her running tears icicle cold.

Lucette’s about to scream, to hit, to do anything that might stop him, stop Varg from disappearing, when she hears a pained, confused gasp from Varg.

“What are you - Stop!”

The dirt beneath them is disturbed as Varg shuffles on the spot, the dry crunching of flowers as he moves.

Without her vision, all Lucette can rely on is her ears. There’s another loud, furious “Stop it!” from Varg, a string of curses, then his hand is ripped from Lucette’s eyes.

In the moment it takes for Lucette’s vision to readjust, shadows envelope his form, twisting and snaking at incredible speeds.

All Lucette can do is watch in horror as the shadows warp angrily, fighting itself.

Suddenly, all at once, they recede in whiplike motion, and the Fritz is the one who appears in Varg’s stead, falling to his knees with both hands clutching at his chest.

Lucette falls with him, landing on her knees in confusion and worry, arms outstretched, hovering aimlessly before Fritz.

His breathing comes in harsh, difficult pants, with beads of cold sweat trickling down his face and neck. Teeth gnashed, gaze wild, Fritz isn’t looking at Lucette. Instead, his eyes are directed towards himself, relieved yet guilty.

“Don’t - Don’t go.” Fritz says, voice low. “You don’t have to. There isn’t a need to.”

Lucette looks at Fritz, unsure as to what was going on.

“This may sound weird, coming from me, but don’t erase yourself.” Fritz continues, a wry smile punctured on his face. It’s bittersweet and fond all at once, sounding like he was speaking to a long lost lover, or a forgotten crush.

Realisation dawns on Lucette, as does relief overwhelm her. Varg was still there. Still alive, somehow.

And Fritz was finally talking to him.

“Shut up. I know that.” Fritz scolds. He doesn’t seem to mind or care that Lucette is listening to this very odd one-sided conversation at all. “You’re the curse, so you have the ability to erase yourself. But I don’t want that.”

Fritz shuts his eyes, taking one laboured breath after another, as if trying to psych himself up for whatever he may say next. He looks and sounds utterly winded, but still he speaks, for all the years he didn’t.

“You’re right. I used to. I used to want nothing more but to forget and erase all the vile things inside of me. It used to hurt me so much I forced myself to ignore it, and let it fester in some unseen corner in my mind. But I don’t want that anymore.”

Cracking his eyes open, raw honesty brightens his amber eyes, golden and determined.

“That isn’t how I want to live my life. I don’t want to live forgetting all the painful memories. I don’t want a life where i’ve forgotten what made me, me. So that’s why even if it’ll hurt, even if I might someday end up regretting this decision, I want to live with you despite it all.

“You were the missing piece i’ve been searching for all this time. Even if I still - I still don’t know how to love you or overthrow you, that doesn’t mean I want to _lose_ you.”

Fritz clenches harder at his vest, head tilting lower.

“I need you, Varg. I want you. So, stay. _Stay.”_

The darkness of the rising moon dyes his silver frame blue-black, cutting shadows over his gentle angles, lending a calmness to his bowed head.

In that instance, Fritz looks fragile yet powerful all at once.

Surrounded by a carpet of flowers, stock still with heavy breaths, Fritz is finally a person all of his own, backlit against the backdrop, the moonlight, easily defined edges stark against the black expanse that he has never let hold him down.

The fear that once steered his words now powers it, born from a new strength he was determined to wield.

The sun isn’t here to lend him its shine, but the moon is.

“It wasn’t the princess’ love and acceptance you needed.” Fritz whispers, smile tender. “It was mine.”

At this point, Lucette has stopped trying to hold back her tears. Her hands are over her mouth, silencing her sobs.

She doesn’t know what she can do to help.

But when Fritz glances at her and sees her weak, encouraging smile, his own smile stretches, and not for the first time, he makes Lucette think that maybe her presence itself is enough.

A sudden glow begins emanating from the middle of Fritz’s chest, and he slowly sits upright, gazing at it.

It’s a dulled sort of bright, looking as if it originated from the moon’s own overhead shine. Not even the darkening sky can overshadow the light, but it does lend darker shades to its silver glow.

Eventually, the glow softly envelopes Fritz’s form, and he lets it without fight.

Lucette just watches, uncertain as to what else she might be expected to do. Especially when she remembers this gentle warmth, this gradual light that only builds brighter.

Her hand moves over where a glass charm would have hung around her neck, holds her breath, and waits.

Eventually, the light fades. Full and overflowing one moment, dimming and fizzling out the next.

Once again, Fritz falls unceremoniously face first towards her, dazed.

Once again, Lucette reaches out to catch him, to hold him close and act his anchor as he always has for her.

Fritz catches himself in Lucette’s arms, hands shaking just the slightest. His fringe falls over his face, obscuring his eyes. The rise and fall of his back tells Lucette he’s still conscious, if not shaken.

But that isn’t what catches Lucette’s attention, what makes her eyes brim with more tears.

With a wet gasp, she combs a hand through the new streak of black that combs around the side of his face delicately. It makes her want to laugh and cry all at the same time, the smile on her face growing larger than she ever knew it could.

Fritz eventually straightens, blinking blearily. One of his arms is still wrapped around Lucette’s for balance, his other moving to overlap Lucette’s hand brushing against his jaw.

Black strands capture his gaze, makes Fritz’s own eyes shine glaze with tears.

Understanding floods his senses, makes his lips curve into a numb smile.

“The curse broke.” Fritz says hoarsely.

“It did.” Lucette smiles, as Fritz leans into her touch with a sigh.

Under the moonlight, an ethereal glow surrounds the man. Gentle fractures of the moon catches itself in his hair, his golden eyes, his kind smile.

The edges of his form appear to blend into the starry sky, but it doesn’t look like it’s trying to return someplace else, anymore. It simply cloaks his essence, in both the glow of the moon and the gentle ink of the dark sky.

Under the moon, Fritz looks alive.

He isn’t quite the man Lucette used to know, but he isn’t quite a stranger, either. A combination of both; someone old having forgiven their transgressions, someone new trying to find themselves again.

Letting go of his arm to cradle his face with both hands, Lucette leans forward until their foreheads touch, their noses brush.

The dandelions tickle Lucette’s thighs, but she feels no need to pick them, not anymore.

Not when her happiness was already with her, in her hands.

“You brought my happiness to me.” Lucette says aloud. “And you always will.”

Fritz’s eyes widen, filled with wonder and sparkling with a radiance paralleling the stars above.

“You remembered.” Fritz whispers.

“I could never forget anything you told me.” Lucette laughs, bringing his face closer, just so she can see him that much better. “Because I love you.”

And when Fritz leans in, the amber glitter of his eyes shine ever brighter.

“Fritzgerald Aiden Leverton.” Lucette says, because that’s who he is, truly, now. “Welcome home.”

Fritz laughs, deep bellied and melodic, glimpses of his teeth shown through his gentle smile.

His hands cover Lucette’s own, warm and welcoming as they always have been, as they always will be.

“I’m home.”

 

* * *

 

The moonlight reflects off the white pebbles, creating an easy trail for the two to follow. Aided with what little light cuts through the canopy of leaves as well, it isn’t difficult to see the path before them.

Their footsteps are light as they walk along the familiar forest path, making as little noise as possible.

Lucette takes her time to look around the area. Each tree they pass by still looks the same, the path she walks looking like any other they’ve followed these past few days.

As they walk, Lucette registers the crashes of a waterfall, the murmurings of a river, the tangy fragrance of ripe peaches.

They had offered her so much, given all they were to them.

Sometimes, Lucette wondered if the forest had loved Fritz as he loved it all those years ago.

If it had been what guided him to finding himself again.

Magic was a finicky thing, ripe with possibilities and alive with mischief. She wouldn’t doubt it for a second if it had been the forest who had kept them safe from harm, from themselves.

But now, it was time to leave it all behind, in order to learn how to protect themselves.

Farther, and farther they walk away from the heart of the enchanted forest.

With every step they take, they’re reminded of what awaits them outside of their safe haven. Of the people who are determined to cheat, steal and hurt them.

Of the people who anxiously await their return, determined to protect, care for and love them.

This time, when they reach the border of the forest, there is no hesitance in the looks they exchange.

“South east from here, right?” Fritz confirms, looking in the direction of Marchen.

“Yes.” Lucette replies.

Her heart still feels like it’s running a mile per minute, and it still takes everything in her to not tremble at the mere thought of returning to the outside world, to a tavern that may reject her.

The backstreet of the town stares accusingly back at her, and Lucette has to force herself to swallow her nerves down.

Lucette began this side trip with a made up game of tag, running away from all that she ever knew, all that she ever loved.

She wonders if there’s still a place for her left, in a world that she rejected.

“We’ll be fine.”

Fritz’s words cut through her doubt like a polished blade. He gives her hand an assuring squeeze.

Lucette gazes at him, at his confident, easy smile.

“No matter what happens, i’ll protect you.” Fritz continues, taking another step forward, closer to breaking the border.

He turns half a step back to face Lucette. “I promise.”

Basked in the light of the moon, Fritz stands, patiently waiting, his ever present smile of gentle acceptance pressed lightly to his lips.

And it gives Lucette all the courage she needs to step beside him.

Lucette loves Fritz.

But he is not her whole world, the only reason she lives.

He is merely a pillar in her life that encourages her to live as she will, supporting her as she does.

Gazing at the backstreet once more, it no longer feels as intimidating as it used to.

She was lead here by advice from people who love her, and is now leaving by the efforts of another she loves.

Lucette is a princess who ran away from her palace, a life not her own.

Lucette is also a princess who will return to her kingdom and take what is rightfully hers back; her memories, her family, and her very own life.

This time, as Lucette leaves a beloved place she cannot call home, she brings all of her self with her.

Now older and still somewhat foolish in the ways of what is good and right, but wiser in the ways of what she desires and whose love she seeks, Lucette takes her first step out of the forest and into the unknown.

The fresh air of the town has never felt more inviting.

The street lights held over head flicker and shine, glowing like pebbles caught in the light of the moon, guiding them back to where they belong.

Guiding them someplace not quite a home yet, but just as safe, just as welcoming, as the person currently beside.

Turning back to face Fritz, Lucette tugs on their connected hands, a glimmer of a smile on her face.

“Let’s go.”


	9. epilogue

Faster and faster the Wolf ran.

 

Deeper and deeper into the woods they went.

 

The Wolf ran for so long that the night gave way to the day.

 

Eventually, the Wolf reached a dilapidated hut.

 

He paced near the entrance, prompting Little Red Riding Hood to get off his back.

 

“Your friend is in there.” The Wolf said.

 

The Wolf nosed Little Red Riding Hood in the direction of the door.

 

“Go, if you are not afraid.” The Wolf said, grin growing wider.

 

Little Red Riding Hood stood before the door.

 

“I am. But I will not let the Hunter be afraid all by his lonesome.” Little Red Riding Hood said.

 

“Brave little girl.” The Wolf said. “I can only hope he feels the same.”

 

Without another wasted moment, Little Red Riding Hood opens the door.

 

Sitting atop the bed, all alone in the dark, dark hut, is the Hunter.

 

“Hunter!” Little Red Riding Hood cried, relieved to see her friend.

 

“How did you find me?” The Hunter asked.

 

“The Wolf brought me to you.” Little Red Riding Hood said.

 

“The Wolf?” The Hunter echoed.

 

On cue, The Wolf appeared from behind Little Red Riding Hood.

 

The Wolf slinked into the room, teeth bared in a jarring smile.

 

“Hello, Hunter.” The Wolf said.

 

The Hunter did not speak.

 

“Hunter?” Little Red Riding Hood said, in a small voice.

 

“Please leave, Little Red Riding Hood.” The Hunter said. “There is nothing here for you.”

 

“There is you.” Little Riding Hood said. “I came because I missed you. Did you not feel the same?”

 

The Hunter did not move.

 

“How cruel, Hunter. The little girl went to such great lengths. Must you turn her away so soon?” The Wolf purred.

 

“You have no right to speak.” The Hunter said sternly.

 

The Wolf approached the Hunter, climbing atop the bed as well.

 

He sat before the Hunter, resting his head upon the Hunter’s legs, yawning.

 

“Do not be cruel, Hunter. That is my job.” The Wolf said, closing its eyes.

 

Before such a bizarre spectacle, Little Red Riding Hood could only stare.

 

“Little Red Riding Hood, please leave.” The Hunter repeated.

 

Little Red Riding Hood shook her head.

 

She walked towards the bed as well, stopping just shy of the bed frame.

 

The Hunter did not move, but looked at Little Red Riding Hood warily.

 

“Why did you come, Little Red Riding Hood?” The Hunter asked.

 

“Because you are my friend. Because I missed you.” Little Red Riding Hood said. “Must there be a better reason?”

 

The Hunter gazed at Little Red Riding Hood.

 

“For that same reason, I must ask you to leave.” The Hunter replied.

 

The Hunter looked down at The Wolf on his lap.

 

“I am just a hunter who cannot even kill a wolf. You will not be safe with me.”

 

Little Red Riding Hood tilted her head, not understanding.

 

“But none of you have hurt me. Why would you start now?”

 

“Because there are still things about the Wolf I do not understand, Little Red Riding Hood.” The Hunter said.

 

“Because there are still things about yourself that you do not understand.” The Wolf interjected.

 

The Hunter did not refute the Wolf.

 

“Then I will help you.” Little Red Riding Hood decided.”I will ask you questions about yourself, and with every reply, I am sure you can come to understand yourself better than you did before.”

 

Little Red Riding Hood cleared her throat.

 

“What golden eyes you have, Hunter.” Little Red Riding Hood began.

 

“All the better to see you with, my dear.” The Hunter replied.

 

“What a lovely voice you have, Hunter.” Little Red Riding Hood continued.

 

“All the better to speak to you with, my dear.” The Hunter said.

 

“What gentle hands you have, Hunter.” Little Red Riding Hood smiled, taking his hand in her own.

 

“...All the better to hold you with, my dear.” The Hunter said, softly.

 

Carefully, the Hunter held Little Red Riding Hood’s hand in return.

 

She did not let go.

 

“How sappy.” The Wolf groaned.

 

Little Red Riding Hood reached out her other hand to scratch the Wolf behind the ears.

 

“There are still many, many questions to be asked.” Little Red Riding Hood said. “But I do not wish to continue in such a dark room. It is far too dreary.”

 

The Wolf laughed. The Hunter blushed.

 

“Let us go out. The sun is shining most wonderfully today.” Little Red Riding Hood said.

 

The Hunter looked hesitant. But with a nudge of the Wolf’s snout and a tug from Little Red Riding Hood, he relented.

 

“If you say so.” The Hunter said.

 

The Wolf got off the bed, and the Hunter followed.

 

Little Red Riding Hood opened the door, and sunlight flooded the room.

 

With another great leap, the Wolf neatly jumped into the Hunter’s shadow, sinking into the wooden floor.

 

“I will watch from here.” The Wolf said. “Have fun.”

 

“So he _was_ a part of you.” Little Red Riding Hood marvelled.

 

“And he always will be.” The Hunter said.

 

“Then you have all the time in the world to understand him, do you not?” Little Red Riding Hood said.

 

“Yes, I do.” The Hunter agreed. “And I will.”

 

“How lovely.” Little Red Riding Hood laughed. “I would enjoy an eternity with you, too.”

 

“Would you?” The Hunter asked, smiling.

 

“I would.”

 

“Then stay.” The Hunter said, holding her hand ever tighter.

 

Little Red Riding Hood smiled, the biggest smile she ever had.

 

“I will.”

 

And together, they all lived happily ever after.

 

 

 

_(the end.)_


End file.
